


Another Fool's Dream

by CharlieLeau



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aerys Targaryen is an abusive shit, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dany is betrothed to Aegon for a while, Endgame Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, F/M, Jaime Lannister is in the place, Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen - Freeform, Jonerys, No White Walkers, No dragons, No magic in this fic, Viserys is the villain, but direwolves because ghost!, no rebellion in this fic, the Stark family is once again represented by my boy Robb Stark, the targs are still ruling the 7 kingdoms, there is cheating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-15 18:09:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 46,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21257465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharlieLeau/pseuds/CharlieLeau
Summary: Jon knows Dany and Aegon will soon be wed. He knows it’s his brother’s hands that will run freely in her hair, his brother’s waist her legs will imprison. Not him, never him. He can only look at her and even looking is a crime.A betrayal.He looks at her anyway.





	1. A Storm Is Coming In

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, I'm back!
> 
> Thank you for the incredible response to my first fic, It's Always Been You. Your comments and my love for Jonerys motivated me to start writing again!
> 
> Another Fool's Dream is inspired by a book entitled "Again the Magic" by Lisa Kleypas. I absolutely adore this author and this book in particular screamed Jonerys so here I am with this two-part fic. This chapter's title is from a song called "Anchor" by Novo Amor. I listened to it a lot while writing.
> 
> I must warn you, I did not use the "mature" rating and the tag "Aerys is an abusive shit" lightly. There is a scene of physical abuse. It's short but it might be triggering for some, so when you reach the part where Aerys summons Dany DO NOT READ FURTHER and skip to the next part.
> 
> Please bear in mind that English isn't my native language so there are probably some mistakes left... My apologies!
> 
> Happy reading!

Another Fool’s Dream

Part 1: A Storm Is Coming In

Jon Snow is a bastard.

The son of Rhaegar Targaryen, the Crown Prince and his lover, the she-wolf Lyanna Stark.

Jon has never met his mother for she died giving birth to him. His name is Snow in her honor. She was from the North, a Stark of Winterfell. He’s been told on numerous occasions he looks like her, with his steely gray eyes and curly dark hair.

He misses her every day. It’s a bit odd really, missing someone he’s never met.

He does anyway.

And whenever someone tells him he truly is Lyanna Stark’s son, whether because he looks like her or says something she might have said, he feels a little better. She is a part of him, as much as he is a part of her.

And while she may be gone from the world, she hasn’t left him.

xxx

Jon grows up in King’s Landing, with his father and his siblings.

Rhaenys is the oldest. She looks like her Dornish mother, Elia Martell, with her dark hair and dark eyes. Jon barely remembers Elia. His father’s wife died in childbirth when he was but a boy of three. Her babe, another sister, died with her.

Jon misses his little sister the same way he does his mother. And he’s forever grateful to the Gods to have blessed him with another sister. Rhaenys is a sweet and happy girl, with enough of an adventurous side to make her the perfect companion to play with. Jon loves her very much.

Aegon comes second. Out of the three of them, he looks like their father the most, with his silver hair and purple eyes. And in a way, it is fitting that Rhaegar’s only trueborn son would look like him the most.

Jon loves Aegon as much as he does Rhaenys. They were raised together, for they were close in age and their father insisted on it. He wanted them to be brothers, not rivals. And so they played together first, then trained and studied together. They drove many of their nurses and preceptors crazy together.

And like their father once wished, they are true brothers.

xxx

Jon is happy with his life for the most part. He knows he ought to be grateful. Not many bastards have a family who loves him like he does, not many bastards feast with their noble father or mother like he does. He ought to be grateful. His father took him in, raised him among his trueborn children.

Jon is grateful.

But Jon is also a bastard. And as much as Rhaenys and Aegon have accepted him and treat him as if he were a trueborn, there are many who like to remind him of his condition.

Viserys Targaryen, his father’s brother, is one of these people.

He loves telling Jon he’s not a prince, only a bastard. He loves to tell him he can hope for nothing. No titles, no castles, no crown. Nothing.

Jon usually bears it without saying anything.

Viserys is stupid, arrogant, and cruel. He’s not worth his time.

But sometimes, he’ll go too far and whenever he does, Jon takes great pleasure in beating him during training.

xxx

Daenerys Targaryen was born less than a year after Jon.

Her mother, Queen Rhaella, died giving birth to her. It was something that brought them together. She was the only who understood how it felt to live without a mother’s love. He was the only one who understood how it felt to be the third child, the last child.

Daenerys, from the moment she was born, became his whole world.

It was him who held her hand when she started walking, even though his own little legs weren’t all that steady. It was him who taught her to ride until she became even better at it than him. It was him who made her laugh when she was sad.

And everything he did for her, she did for him.

It was her who chased after him in the gardens, filling the air with her laughter. It was her who sought him out after he’d disappeared to sulk and brought happiness back into his heart. It was her who tended to him when he was sick.

He’s a boy of six and ten now. A grown man even though he has yet to see the world. But why would he want to when Dany is still is whole world?

She’s his sun, illuminating his days with her presence.

She’s his moon, pale and silver and perfectly beautiful.

She’s his stars, a promise of forever that is out of his reach.

Because, while she’s his whole world, she’s not meant for him.

She was promised to Aegon the moment she was born.

One day soon, she will be his wife. She will bear him children. Targaryen sons and daughters with silver hair and purple eyes.

It doesn’t stop Jon from wishing she was his instead, another fool’s dream to add to his ever-growing list.

xxx

Dany is avoiding him. The thought comes to him as the sun slowly starts his descent under the horizon and he realizes he has yet to see her. He can’t remember a day in his life when such a thing has happened.

He finds her in the stables, where she always goes when she wants to run away from something or someone upsetting. Her back is to him as she pets and whispers secrets in her white mare’s ear.

He remains where he is in the shadows and just looks at her. He hates how he notices there’s not much left of the girl who once pushed him in a fountain in the gardens. Dany is a grown woman now.

His eyes travels down the length of her, down the length of her silver hair. He knows if he pushes it back, he’ll be able to smell her perfume. Dany always smells of lemon and sunshine, of life and spice, fire and happiness.

She’s wearing some sort of tunic that exposes the pale skin of her back and riding leathers that do wonders to her bottom and legs.

She’s perfect.

_And she is to be your brother’s wife_, a stern voice reminds him.

He doesn’t need the reminder. He knows Dany and Aegon will soon be wed. He knows it’s his brother’s hands that will run freely in her hair, his brother’s waist her legs will imprison. Not him, never him. He can only look at her and even looking is a crime.

A betrayal.

Anguish takes over his heart at the thought. He clenches his fists, anything to contain the storm raging inside him.

Dany was born during the worst storm in living memory. It is why everyone calls her “Stormborn”.

And Stormborn she is, the mother of storms for the storm threatening to overwhelm him and pull him under bears her name. All because he loves her.

Truly, madly, deeply.

xxx

Jon has grown up hearing stories about the Targaryens that came before him. Aegon the Conqueror and his sister-wives, Daeron, the Young Targaryen… he looks up to them all and wishes that he too could be a hero.

It’s a fool’s dream, he knows.

He’s a bastard.

He will never be a hero. People won’t sing his praises and remember him long after he’s gone.

It doesn’t matter how good he is with a sword, how smart he is in combat. Everyone will always look at Aegon first and him last, if they ever look at him at all.

In these moments, Jon hates his brother. He hates that Aegon is better at everything than he is. Riding, fighting, archery… Aegon has mastered them all to perfection. He hates that everyone loves him, looks up to him, while they all hate him simply for being born.

In these moments when jealousy and despair consume him, Jon wishes his father will ask the king to make him true. To give him the Targaryen name.

It’s another fool’s dream. It will never happen.

And then he feels shame.

Because at the end of the day, it’s not Aegon’s fault that Jon’s a bastard. And he’s done nothing wrong, quite the opposite. He’s always treated him like a true brother, like an equal.

Aegon loves him as his brother and Jon does too. That’s why he feels ashamed when these dark thoughts plague his mind.

He loves his brother and would die for him without hesitation. He would die before he ever hurt him or betrayed him.

Except he has betrayed him.

He’s fallen in love with his betrothed.

And that brings him more shame than any of his thoughts tainted by misplaced anger, jealousy and envy.

xxx

She notices his presence. She always does.

She turns to look at him and there’s fire in her eyes. She crosses her arms over her chest.

She’s angry at him. Jon wrecks his brain, but he can’t think of a single thing he’s done that might have offended her.

She holds her head high, she has an imperious look on her face. She looks like the queen she’s meant to be one day. And to Jon, she’s never looked more beautiful.

“Do you want to go for a ride?” He asks her.

He knows she won’t talk to him here.

“Try and catch me.”

It’s what she always says. And he, fool that he is, always tries and always fails.

They don’t bother with saddles. They’re both experienced enough to ride bareback.

They head into the Kingswood. There’s a clearing and Jon, fool that he is, thinks of it as their clearing. He’s a bastard who can hold no land and she a princess with no land to her name. Yet, that clearing still feels as theirs for they have spent many hours talking under the shade of its trees.

It was in that clearing Jon realized he was in love with her.

He still remembers that day clearly. Dany had been lying on the grass, her silver-hair sprawled around her head like a silver crown. She’d looked so beautiful in the light of the sun, her skin had seemed to glow. She’d been talking with her eyes half-closed and it had occurred to Jon that if he could spend the rest of his life like this, with her in that clearing, he’d be the happiest man ever.

That was yet another fool’s dream.

xxx

He’s crossed with her too when he finally reaches the clearing.

What usually happens is that they’ll ride side by side until Dany gets bored. Then, she will pick up pace and he will try to keep up with her. She will always stay in sight, both to give him the illusion that he might catch her and so that he can keep an eye on her.

But today, Dany left the stables like a fury. She was fast as lightening when she disappeared into the Kingswood and from his sight. And when Jon finally reaches the clearing, she’s casually leaning against a tree, her horse grazing next to her. The nonchalant look on her face strokes the fire in his veins.

“What were you thinking?” He asks her as he hurriedly dismounts his own horse.

She has the audacity to look surprised at his outburst.

“Why did you take off like that? What if something had happened to you? What if you’d fallen?”

“That is very unlikely.”

Her cool demeanor is disconcerting. He was a second away from shaking her, but now he doesn’t know what to say or do anymore. It’s always that way with Dany. He can’t tell up from down, left from right when he is around her. She is the only thing he can focus on.

He inhales deeply, tries to gain some sort of control over his emotions. He can’t bear the thought of her in danger, or in pain of any kind. That’s why he is so angry at her total lack of concern for her own safety.

“Why are you angry with me?” He asks once he’s calmer.

“I’m not the one who’s angry.”

“But you’re the one who’s been avoiding me,” he shots back.

Her shoulders fall a little at his words. The imperious look makes way for another emotion to take over.

Pain.

Dany is hurt and it obviously has to do with him.

He can’t bear it.

He crosses the space between them in a second to stand right in front of her. He wants to reach out to her. He wants to touch her, comfort her.

“Talk to me,” he pleads with her.

He can’t touch her with his hands so his words will have to do.

She hesitates, avoids his gaze.

“Is it true that you and Aegon went out to a brothel last night?” She meets his eyes again when she says the words and the steel in her lilac eyes stuns him more than her accusation.

“Who told you that?”

“You’re not denying it then?”

“Who told you that?” He asks again, his voice closer to a growl this time.

“The servants.”

“Since when do you listen to the servants’ gossips?”

“You’re still not denying said gossips.”

Jon sighs. He’d told Aegon it wasn’t a good idea, to which his brother had replied, “if we don’t enjoy the wonders life has to offer before we are married, we never will”. His words had angered Jon. If he was promised to Dany, he’d never want for anything or anyone else. That was the difference between him, who would never have anything, and Aegon, who had everything handed to him from the moment he was born.

“I’m sorry, Dany, I—”

She raises a hand to stop him for speaking further. “I don’t want to hear it.”

She turns around, she’s about to leave. Jon doesn’t let her. He grabs her arm, forces her to look at him again. He’s careful, even in his anger. He never wants to hurt her.

“Let me go!”

“This conversation isn’t over,” he tells her, releasing her as he did. “It’s not fair of you to blame me for something your betrothed did…”

“I do not care about what Aegon did. Better he visits the whores before we are wed than after.”

Her face is pale, her cheeks red with emotions. Her tone is full of disgust and disdain. She’s never looked and sounded so hurt and angry before.

“Then what do you care about?”

He instantly regrets asking the question. The moment the words pass his lips, he realizes no good can come out of this conversation.

“I care about _you_,” she spits the words more than she says them. “Was it good? Oh, it must have been, you were gone all night, weren’t you? How many of them did you fuck?”

He shakes his head hoping to be rid of the images she is putting in his mind.

“Don’t talk like that!”

“I will talk however I please.”

The imperious look comes back at this very moment. Her words fall like a whip and Jon recoils at the sting.

“I can’t talk to you when you’re like that,” he says, turning around.

She is the one to hold him back this time. She grabs his arm and spins him around. He’s surprised by her strength. She may be small, but she is fierce.

_A dragon princess_, he thinks, his heart clenching painfully in his chest.

“Look at me, you coward! Look me in the eyes and tell me what you did!” She tightens her grip on his arm, digging her nails deep enough to hurt.

“I didn’t do anything!” He yells back.

She releases her grip around his arm. She stumbles back. He notices that the fall and rise of her chest starts slowing down as her breathing evens.

“You didn’t?”

Something else is laced with her pain and anger from before. It almost sounds like hope.

“No, I…” he struggles to find the right words. How can he tell her that all he felt the previous night in the brothel was fear? Fear of fathering a bastard, fearing of bringing more Snows with no future into the world.

“I couldn’t,” he finally says, mustering strength for his voice. It’s nothing, but he hopes she will understand anyway.

And because it’s Dany, she does.

The steel in her eyes melts, her gaze softens.

“I’m sorry, Jon,” she whispers.

Relief floods his veins, so much that he feels a little light-headed. She lets out a heavy sigh.

“I can’t do this anymore,” she tells him, her voice still barely louder than a whisper.

His relief melts from his bones so that he is coiled tight once more.

“What are you saying?”

She looks up and meets his eyes. The steel isn’t back, but he can see determination in her gaze. Before he can blink, she is reaching for him. Her hands are cupping his face and she’s pulling him down toward her.

Her lips are soft, softer than he could have imagined.

He pulls her away from him before he can learn more about her. He knows her softness only will haunt his dreams forever.

He takes a few steps back, his temples pounding where his blood is beating them mercilessly.

“Dany, no! We can’t, I can’t…” he looks around him, runs a hand through his hair, pulls at the dark strands. He stills and his eyes land on her.

She is standing near a tree, her riding leathers the same dark brown color as the tree’s bark. Her cheeks are flushed, from their argument or almost kiss he can’t tell. Her hair is disheveled from their ride. The last rays of sunlight are forming a halo around her head. A golden crown, for a silver princess.

His heart picks up pace in his chest, his throat narrows.

How he loves her.

“I want you, Jon,” she tells him. “I should not want you this much, but I still do. I want you so much just the thought of another having you makes my blood boil in my veins.”

She takes a hesitant step toward him, altering his breathing with the look in her lilac eyes only.

“You’re the one I think of when I drift off to sleep every night. Yours are the hands I imagine touching me, loving me…”

His fists clench at the images she puts in his mind. They create a spark and fire roars to life inside him. He lets out a small groan and has to fight the urge to reach for her.

“Do you not want me, Jon?”

She’s close enough for him to feel her breath against his skin as she tortures him with her words. He closes his eyes, fighting the storm inside him with all his might.

“Would you rather be with them whores at the brothel? Would you rather feel their lips, their hands on you than mine?”

As she speaks, she brings one small white hand to his chest. The touch burns him even through the fabric of the tunic he wears. A shiver wrecks his body. It’s too much, she is too much.

“Dany, please stop,” he begs her, stopping her hand. “We can’t. Think of Aegon, think…”

“The Others take Aegon. Do you think he spared me a thought last night when he fucked his whore?”

Jon tightens his grip around her wrist. “Do not use me to get back at him,” he warns her.

Anger flashes in her eyes. This time the steel is back. She yanks herself free.

“If you truly think this is what _this_,” she points at the two of them, “is about, then you don’t know me at all, Jon Snow.”

She stares him down, hard. She’s beautiful, willful, and prideful.

She’s everything he wants and then some more. She has gotten under his skin, started a fire in his veins. It joins the hurricane that’s been hovering over his heart, the hurricane that bears her name.

_Is this what my lord father felt for my mother?_ He thinks to himself.

For the first time in his life, Jon understands how his father could forget all about his honor and the vows he’d sworn. He understands how he could father a bastard. He understands how he came into this world.

He understands because he’s forgetting too, because the more he looks at Dany, the more he forgets about everything. His brother, their family, his honor… it all fades to nothing compared to how he feels for her.

He loves her.

And he hates himself for loving her, gods, he really does, but he loves her anyway. He always has and always will. He doesn’t know how not to.

xxx

Dany knows the moment Jon’s resolve breaks. Something shifts in his Northern gray eyes, eyes that could always see her soul, and everything changes.

He cups her head between his hands and brings his lips down to hers.

The kiss sets her ablaze.

His lips fit perfectly against hers, like he was made for her and she for him. And she knows they were, she’s always known.

She responds to his kiss with awkward eagerness. She’s never been kissed before, she’s always wanted him to be her first. Her first and her last. Her wish has been granted and she won’t let him go until she’s taken everything he has to give her.

She wants everything.

She’s not sure she’s his first kiss. She thinks of the whores he went to see the previous night and her insides clench painfully. She brings her hands to his hair, grips it possessively. It’s soft under her palm.

He’s always had prettier hair than hers.

An agitated groan comes from the back of his throat when she kisses him back with much fervor. He intensifies the pressure on her lips and she parts them a little hesitantly. His tongue sweeps inside her mouth, exploring it boldly. Dany, never one to be left behind, meets his tongue with hers, in spite of her girlish shyness, in spite of her inexperience.

She is surrounded by him. He takes possession of all her senses. He’s warm against her, he smells of sweat and earth, of the sun and leather, and something else, something she’s never been able to give a name to, something that’s characteristically him.

Jon.

She’s burning for him, her heart is screaming for more of him, all of him. She’s never felt like this, not for anyone but him.

They stumble and her back hits a tree. Jon keeps holding her head in his hands, cradling it carefully like she’s some precious jewel he doesn’t want to break. His mouth moves from her own as he kisses the line of her jaw then down the column of her throat.

She throws her head back and bites her lips to stifle her cries of pleasure. He keeps moving further down. He nuzzles her tunic open as he reaches her chest. He can probably feel the frantic pacing of her heart against his lips.

Good.

She wants him to feel the effect he has on her. Because it’s all him. The fire in her veins is him, the warmth in her belly is him. And her heart… it beats for him only.

She’s getting more lost in the moment, in everything he makes her feel, when he abruptly pulls back from her. She makes a noise in protest and he covers her mouth with his hand.

“I think I heard something,” he whispers, his body drawn taut against hers.

Dany freezes and listens. She hears a dog bark in the distance. The King’s Road go through the Kingswood and of course, some people live in the forest as well.

“We should go.”

Jon pulls away from her. She instantly misses his warmth, the feel of him against her.

“Jon…” she calls, but he’s already reached his horse.

“Let’s just go, Dany.”

His voice is strained, she chooses not to push him. She climbs on her mare’s back and follows him back home.

It’s only once they’re back in the Red Keep that Jon speaks. He tells her it was a mistake. He tells her it shouldn’t have happened. He tells her it can’t happen again.

Dany’s heart disagrees, but her mind knows he’s right.

xxx

Her heart ends up winning for it happens again. And again. And again.

They meet in secret, in dark corners and forgotten places.

They kiss and touch carelessly, with the passion and ardent fervor of youth.

It’s thrilling to sneak around like that. It’s also dangerous, because what they’re doing is not only wrong, it’s also forbidden. They’re betraying their family. She is betrothed to his brother. He is a bastard. If they were caught… consequences would be dire.

But they’re Targaryens, even though Jon doesn’t bear his father’s name. Their name.

They’re dragons and dragons fear nothing. They bow before neither Gods nor men.

And love has that impervious quality to itself. Love doesn’t care about right and wrong, duty and honor. Love knows no boundaries, no reason other than its own.

Because that’s what she and Jon have.

Love.

They love each other and just can’t let go.

And so they keep meeting in dark corners and forgotten places.

They also meet in broad daylight for their lives must go on as they always have.

Dany starts wearing dresses that show more skin knowing Jon’s hungry gaze will devour her from afar. She ties her hair up more often, exposing her neck, her throat, her shoulders. They’re his favorite part of her and she rejoices every time her skin prickles because his gaze is following the curves of her body.

Dany is no fool. She’s a girl of five and ten only, but she knows the tales people are already spreading about her beauty. She knows what they say about her, that she’s the most beautiful woman in the world. Everyone is always looking at her because of that.

Jon’s eyes are the only heated eyes she wants on her. Just like his hands are the only ones she wants on her body.

xxx

To Dany, Jon is no bastard.

He is her blood, her family, her love, her other-half.

Jon is a man of the shadows, guarded and reserved, but so, so, tempting. He is the fire in her veins, the softness in her heart.

Jon is the most beautiful smile she knows. The sound of his laughter is enough to turn her darkest day into a joyous one.

Jon is long days of summers spent playing in the gardens. She used to stand on his shoulders, to grab lemons from the trees.

Jon is horse rides in the Kingswood. He has yet to catch up with her.

Jon is hours spent talking in the clearing. It’s in that clearing, where he laid his heart bare for her to see, that she knew she loved him.

Jon is the happiness of her childhood, the light of her life.

She never wants to be parted from him.

xxx

They find their way back to their clearing. They always do.

Today is a particularly hot day, so Jon and Dany take off their riding boots and dive their feet in a nearby stream. The cool water is a blessing when it’s so hot outside.

Dany throws her head back, pushing her silver curls down her shoulders. Some rays of sunlight are filtering through the leaves and softly caress her cheek. She closes her eyes and hums in content.

Her skin prickles. She smiles, opens one eye. Jon is looking at her from where he is sitting next to her, a mix of awe and wonder on his face.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“How am I looking at you?”

“You know how.”

He smiles, shrugs. “No reason…” he scoots closer to her, brushes her hair away from her forehead. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers against her lips.

Something clenches inside her at his words. She feels hot all over, but this time, it has nothing to do with the heat of the day. She places her hand behind his head and brings his mouth down to hers.

The kiss escalates quickly.

One second, they’re sitting and kissing and the next, Dany is on her back, Jon hovering above her. He deepens the kiss and she responds in kind, her blood rushing from her brain. Like always when she is with Jon, she forgets about everything, who they are, where they are. He becomes her whole world and she can only focus on the little sounds of pleasure he makes, on how he feels against her, how he smells and tastes.

They fumble with their clothes. They’re both eager to shed some layers, to expose more skin to their hungry hands and hungry eyes. Dany rids Jon of his tunic first. He hisses when she brushes his taut muscles with the tips of her fingers. He lifts the skirt of the fluid dress she is wearing that day, and one of his hands travels up her thigh.

Goose bumps break all over her skin, the fire in her veins intensifies.

Their kiss grows more urgent while Dany rakes her nails down the valley of Jon’s abs. He inhales sharply, bites her lower lip in retaliation. It is only when her hands reach his belt that Jon halts her movements.

“Dany, wait,” he whispers breathlessly.

“What?” She asks. She’s just as breathless as he is.

“We can’t do _that_.”

“Why the hell not?” She asks, pressing kisses down the line of his jaw. “I want you, Jon,” she whispers in the shell of his ear. A shivers wrecks his body, she can feel it in the way he trembles in her arms.

“Dany… how will you explain the absence of your maidenhood to your lord-husband?”

She groans, her head falling back on the ground. “The Others take him!”

“Dany, it’s Aegon you’re talking about.”

“I don’t care about him!” She tells him, annoyance and frustration getting the better of her.

It’s a lie, of course and Jon knows it. Dany cares greatly about Aegon. He is her blood, just like Jon, but unlike him, he isn’t _in_ her blood. He doesn’t make her heart race in her chest when he touches her, not that he ever does. He doesn’t make her heart ache with his absence, doesn’t make it clench when he smiles.

That’s Jon.

“I want to be yours and I want you to be mine,” she says after a while, cupping Jon’s face between her hands. He leans into her touch, closing his eyes to better savor the contact.

She realizes her words resemble wedding vows.

_I’m his and he is mine from this day until the end of my days_.

Dany’s eyes drift close as she imagines a world where she’s been granted everything she’s ever dreamed of. A world where she is Jon’s wife, where she is heavy with his child. She can see herself, standing in the sunlight, her belly so round and so real, her heart aches in her chest. There’s a little girl at her side, a little girl with long silver hair and dark gray eyes.

A tear rolls down Dany’s cheek, her heart screaming in pain at the unfairness of their lives.

“Are you alright?”

She opens her eyes again and meets Jon’s worried gaze.

“Just kiss me,” she says, pulling him down against her once more.

He kisses her lips again. Then, her chest, her breast, her belly that will never carry his child. He destroys the waves of anguish and sadness that threaten to take over her heart again with fire. He kisses her further down, kisses her everywhere. He pleases her until she sees stars in the light of the day, until his name is the only word she remembers.

Then she does the same for him, for he is hers as much as she is his.

xxx

They come back to the stables. They’re still high from their ride and the intimate moments they shared in the clearing.

Jon’s hands can’t seem to stop touching her. They brush the small of her back, put her hair back into place… little shivers run down her spine every time she feels his skin on hers. After what they did, she is even more acutely aware of his presence near her.

He presses one last kiss against the crook of her neck as they walk out of the stables, which were surprisingly empty.

“Jon!” She chastises him.

She hears a noise behind them. She spins around, her heart in her throat.

“What is it?”

She looks around for a second longer. She sees nothing. They’re alone.

“Let’s hurry back,” she tells him.

xxx

Dany hums a song as she brushes her hair. She’s sent away her handmaids for the night already. She likes preparing herself for bed alone. She’s rarely, if ever, alone and she enjoys these quiet private moments she gets to herself.

She’s standing on her balcony, her eyes lost in the distance.

She’s surprised when she hears a knock on her door.

“Come in.”

Jaime Lannister, the Golden Lion of Casterly Rock does. He’s wearing a white cloak, for he’s been a member of the Kingsguard since before her birth.

“Your father wishes to speak with you, princess,” he tells her.

Dread instantly fills her. She doesn’t let it show though and nods.

“Has he told you what he wants from me?” She asks him as she follows him out of her rooms.

“I’m afraid not.”

They spend the rest of their walk in silence. Dany’s fear only grows. Beads of sweat even form on her neck.

Her father’s health has been deteriorating for years. He was already in bad shape, physically and mentally, before she was born, and the loss of her mother has only accelerated his decay. Dany knows for a fact Rhaegar and the small council work hard to keep the king’s condition a secret, but the task is proving to be impossible as of late.

The king is prone to anger and violence. He is paranoid, fearing betrayal and seeing conspiracies everywhere. He also has an obsession with dragons and fire that doesn’t sit well with his family. The tragedy at Summerhall is still fresh in people’s memories, even though it happened some years ago.

When Dany enters her father’s solar, her brother Viserys is walking out of it. They exchange a look as they pass each other. She can’t read the expression on his face.

The king turns to her. He’s an old man, though to Dany he’s always been one. She’s never known him without the marks of time on his face.

“Father,” she greets him with a bow of her head.

“Daughter.”

The word falls like a whip and leave a stinging mark on her heart. She meets his purple eyes and somehow she knows.

He knows.

“When you were born, I thought you were a blessing. Finally a Targaryen princess for a Targaryen king. For if Rhaegar had been married to another Targaryen, he never would have spared the Stark girl a look, never would have brought shame onto our house and within our walls…”

It takes everything Dany has not to let him what she truly thinks of the “shame” Rhaegar has brought onto their house. Because as far as she’s concerned, _Jon_ is a blessing.

“But now I realize you’re a curse meant to cause our downfall.”

Dany swallows heavily. “Father, I…”

“You’ve been seen with your brother’s bastard. Kissing, holding hands. Do you deny it?”

She doesn’t dare. She’s certain he knows. Lying to him would only add fire to his fury.

“Has he taken your maidenhood?”

Dany feels her cheeks flush. Tears flood her eyes.

“Did you not hear me? Can you still be wed? Are you still a virgin?”

“Yes, father.”

“Good. I will only have him killed then.”

Dany freezes. Fear like she’s never felt before seizes her heart. Her hands shake, her legs wobble.

“No, father, please!”

“Why not? It is time someone pulls out the bad weed that has taken root in our house. Time to kill the Stark spy.”

Dany realizes in this moment the true extent of her father’s folly. And if she does nothing, Jon will die.

Because of her.

Targaryens bow before no one. For Jon, she will.

She gets on her knees at her father’s feet and begs him. She pleads for Jon’s life.

“Father, I beg you don’t hurt him. I’ll never speak to him again, I will not even look at him.”

“Of course you won’t, daughter, because he will be dead.”

“Father, no! He’s still your blood. Don’t kill him, send him away. Let _me _send him away. I will find the right words, I will make sure he never comes back.”

“My decision is made. The bastard will die.”

She sees his resolve and knows she’ll have to go further than him if she is to win this.

“Then, you’re sentencing me to die as well, for I cannot live without him. Execute him and I will find a way to join him in death. Then you will have no more Targaryen princess for your Targaryen king.”

Something crosses her father’s eyes. Awareness. “You wouldn’t…” he whispers, clinging to his disbelief for a second longer.

“I would,” she assures him, her tone laced with more confidence than she possesses. “Kill Jon Snow and I’ll throw myself off a balcony, slit my throat, hang myself… anything so long as I die in the end.”

“You really love him, don’t you? A bastard.”

The disgust in his voice is clear.

“More than life itself,” she says proudly.

He slaps her then. The blow is so hard, she falls to the floor and tastes blood in her mouth. Her father only has the appearance of an old man. He still has some strength left from his youth.

“You foolish girl,” he grips her jaw and she cries out in pain. “Very well, I will let Jon Snow live, but you will pay for this…”

He throws her back and her head hits the floor, hard enough for her to feel stunned for a second. She hears him fumble with his belt. He’s about to unleash his fury on her, she knows it.

_Better me than Jon_, she thinks, the memory of his dark gray eyes bringing her some comfort in this moment of sheer terror.

“You’ve woken the dragon!”

She barely has time to turn around to protect her face before the first slap of his leather belt hits her skin.

xxx

Dany can barely move. If she tries to lift her arms, it pulls at the wounds on her back. She cannot reach her hands out to hold anything either.

The pain is excruciating.

She once tripped in the stairs and broke her arm. She thought she knew what pain was and she was wrong.

She had no idea.

Pain is how she feels at the moment, with her broken back and broken heart.

The maester says the wounds will scar. The thought of bearing the reminder of that evening on her skin forever fills Dany with dread. But it all fades to nothing compared to spending a lifetime without Jon.

She hasn’t seen him in days because of a terrible fever.

At first, she only had Jaime Lannister treating her wounds. She owes him her life for it was him who came and stopped her father. Him who carried her back in his arms. Him who did his best to clean her back and bandage it. He was extremely gentle as he pressed a wet cloth against the cuts, whispering soothing words of comfort in her ear as he did so.

They festered anyway, for her father cut her deep.

Then, Jaime Lannister saved her life again by calling for a maester and having him secretly tend to her. They swore him to secrecy and paid him well for his services.

They couldn’t call the Grand Maester, Dany didn’t, and still doesn’t, want anyone to know what happened. If people did know, they would start asking questions. They would find out about her relationship with Jon… she can’t let that happen. She has to protect him, from her father, and from everyone who would hurt him if they knew the truth.

And to do that, she has to hurt him herself.

Just the thought of what she has to do makes her want to vomit.

But she will do it. She will protect him. He would do the same and more for her.

xxx

“What happened to your face?”

Dany lifts a hand to her cheek. A bruise formed where her father slapped her. “Oh, nothing!”

“That doesn’t look like nothing.”

Jon is at her side in a second, carefully taking her face between his hands. She allows the contact to last a second longer than it should. She knows it’s the last time he’s touching her.

Her back hurts, but it’s nothing compared to the pain in her heart. Her eyes burn with tears. She holds them back. She can’t let him see her emotions, she can’t let him know she’s dying inside. If she does, he might understand what is happening and more dangerous, he might realize what happened. Knowing how hot-blooded he is, a true dragon even though he doesn’t bear the Targaryen name, he might do something really stupid in a foolish attempt at avenging her.

She steels herself, holds herself a little straighter even though it makes her pain unbearable. She resorts to using that pain as motivation. She doesn’t want him to go through what she did. She doesn’t want him to die.

She yanks his hands away, a cold mask slipping into place on her face.

“It’s nothing,” she says again.

She doesn’t recognize her own voice.

“Are you feeling better?” He asks her, his concern evident.

“That is none of your concern.”

He frowns, takes a step back.

“Dany?”

“I want you to leave,” she tells him.

He looks shocked, confused. A little hurt. But he bows his head and takes another step back, another step further away from her.

She wants to scream at him to come back and hold her.

She doesn’t.

“You misunderstand me,” she says. “I want you to leave.”

“I’m leaving!” He shots back, clearly annoyed now.

“I mean King’s Landing.”

He freezes. “What?”

“You heard me. I want you to leave King’s Landing and never come back here.”

“Did something happen?”

She loves him for knowing her so well. She hates him for making this harder. She takes a deep breath, adds more venom to her words.

“No, why would you say that?”

“Because you’re asking me to leave! What is it, Dany? Does someone know?”

“No, but they will if you don’t leave.”

He frowns. “What are you talking about?”

Dany braces herself. She knows Jon by heart. She knows his insecurities, she knows just what will hurt him and convince him to leave.

_Forgive me_.

She doesn’t know if she’s pleading him or the Gods. She just hopes one of them will hear her.

“If you don’t leave King’s Landing, then I will tell them myself. I’ll tell them you seduced me, abused me. It will be your word against mine and who do you think they’ll believe? Their beloved princess or the wicked bastard that’s been living under their roof for years? If you had any decency, you would have left and gone to the Wall a long time ago, if only to spare our family the embarrassment…”

He pales at her words.

“I know you, Dany. This isn’t you.”

“And yet, it is.”

“I love you.”

It’s the first time he’s said the words to her. It takes her everything she has not to react to them.

“It’s true. I love you, Dany. Always have and always will.”

Her heart bleeds in her chest.

“And I don’t, I never did,” she tells him. Then, she pretends to laugh while she is crying inside. “Did you really think I actually cared for you?” She laughs some more. His fists clench at his sides. “You amused me for a while, and I’ll admit I’ve learned a lot with you. But, now it’s time for me to move on to men of my station, until I marry Aegon, of course. I’m meant for the future king of Westeros after all, not a bastard.”

She holds his gaze and hopes he sees the lies she tells him for the truth.

_Please, Jon, go North. Go to the Starks. Go to the Wall where no one can hurt you, not even my father. Please, Jon._

“I know you love me,” he tells her, but he sounds unsure. She hates that it took so little to instill doubts in his mind and in his heart, but then again, she knew exactly where to strike. And now it is time for the final blow. The fatal one.

“How could I? You’re a bastard, you’re nothing. You always have been and you always will be nothing. More importantly, you have nothing to give me. No name, no honor, no glory. Nothing.” She swallows. “I’m a princess of royal blood. I will marry a prince and someday, we’ll be king and queen. As for you… you will die in the shadows, where you belong and no one will remember you.”

There’s only silence after she finishes speaking. Dany keeps holding Jon’s gaze. He must believe everything she’s told him for he turns around, walks out of her chambers and out of her life.

Minutes pass, silence stretching painfully.

The cracks on her heart widen, her tears come, unbidden.

She collapses on the floor and sobs.

xxx

“Is everything alright, Daenerys?”

Dany looks up from the book she’s supposed to be reading. She hasn’t turned a single page in over an hour.

“Yes, everything is fine,” she replies, even managing to smile at Rhaenys who is sitting across from her.

Her answer and her smile don’t seem to convince her niece, who pinches her lips tightly together, something she does sometimes when there’s something on her mind.

“You look terrible,” Rhaenys eventually says, having always been the sort of people to favor honesty over pleasant lies.

And she is right. Dany does look terrible. The food she eats tastes like ash in her mouth. She can’t keep it down. She’s lost a lot of weight as a result and all colors have left her cheeks. She, who used to be so radiant, is withering with every day that passes.

“You haven’t been quite yourself since your fever and Jon’s abrupt departure.”

It’s been three weeks since Jon left King’s Landing and whenever Dany closes her eyes to sleep, she either dreams of him or her father. She doesn’t know what’s worse, the nightmares of that terrible night, or the sweet dreams of her love that turn bitter when she wakes up because he’s gone and will never come back.

Dany seems him everywhere, in the gardens where they played as children, in the Red Keep where they met and kissed in secret, in her chambers where she broke his heart and sent him away…

“Daenerys?” The touch of Rhaenys’ hand on her startles her, brings her out of her desperate spiral. “I know you and Jon always had a special bond, you must miss him terribly…”

“That is not true.”

“What isn’t?”

“My relationship with Jon was never anything special.”

Rhaenys is taken aback by her blatant lie. She blinks and for a second, she seems to be at a complete loss for words.

“You’ve always favored him. I know it, I’ve seen it.”

Dany wishes Rhaenys wasn’t so observant. She also wishes she wasn’t brave enough to confront her.

“What of it? He is gone now, isn’t he?”

“And that hurts you. You do miss him.”

It’s not a question, it’s a statement. Daenerys looks down at the book in her lap.

“It will pass,” she eventually says.

She knows it won’t, but she pretends anyway. Pretense and lies are all she’s been left with.

“Has he not written to you at all?”

Dany shakes her head.

“And have you written to him?”

“What would be the point? No letter could ever bring him back. Not that I want him to come back, of course.”

She closes her book a little too vehemently. Rhaenys jumps in surprise at her outburst.

“Daenerys…”

“I’m grateful for your concern, Rhaenys, but I promise you, I’m fine.”

She gets up and leaves the room in a hurry to hide the flow of tears streaming down her cheeks.

xxx

She is watching the sun falling behind the horizon when Jaime Lannister finds her. She’s been sitting in the gardens for hours, so much that she feels like she has turned into a marble statue herself.

Jaime Lannister settles right next to her, his armor shining in the light of the dying day.

“Do you have need of me, Ser Jaime?” She eventually asks him, without tearing her gaze away from the blazing sunset.

“You weren’t at dinner.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You must eat.”

He hands her a bowl of steaming soup. Dany’s stomach churns at the sight of it.

“I’m not hungry,” she says again, refusing it.

“You will eat it, princess, or I will make you.”

She raises her head and coldly looks down at him. “Careful, Ser, you’re overstepping your duties.”

“With respect, princess, I’m a knight of the Kingsguard. My duty is to protect the king and his family which includes you. I am to protect you against everyone who would harm you, including yourself.”

He pushes the bowl into her hands. Dany reluctantly accepts it.

“Eat,” he tells her again, his tone scolding and almost fatherly.

She looks down at the bowl in her lap. She smells peas and onions. Jon’s favorite. Her throat narrows, tears burn her eyes.

“I can’t,” she says, her voice strained.

“Yes, you can.”

She grabs the spoon with one hand. She’s trembling terribly. Jaime’s hand closes around hers. He helps her lift the spoon, encourages her to take a sip.

The soup is tasteless on her tongue. She swallows. It burns her throat as it goes down.

A satisfied smile spreads on Jaime’s lips. “That wasn’t so difficult now, was it?”

“Have you ever been in love, Ser Jaime?”

The look in his eyes grows suddenly distant. He hesitates before he eventually says.

“Aye, I have.” He pauses. “I know a lot about love, as surprising as it may be. You did the right thing.”

It’s the first time he’s addressing Dany’s situation. He’s saved her from her father, helped her hide what he did, but he has never said anything about the _why_. Not until now.

“Did I?”

She closes her eyes, remembering the look in Jon’s eyes. She hurt him, betrayed him, destroyed him.

“I told him every single thing he hates about himself were true.”

“The things we do for love…” Jaime tells her, his voice trailing down.

“I’m not sure love is a good reason enough for hurting someone so badly.”

“Everything we do, we do in the name of love. Our love for our country, our king, our family… it all comes down to love in the end.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“Perhaps that will. You saved his life. And you still are, by keeping everything that’s happened a secret.”

She shakes her head. “And now he hates me.”

“If his love was true, then he’s already forgiven you.”

Dany meets Jaime Lannister’s gaze. She’s known him her whole life, but she sees him for the first time that evening. She sees the conflict in his piercing green eyes, the pain, and the unadulterated love.

“But I don’t know if I can forgive myself.”

“That’s something we can work on,” Jaime tells her, placing the spoon in her hand once more.

xxx

Dany and Ser Jaime part ways right after walking back inside the Red Keep. She heads toward her chambers in the Maidenvault, her heart a little lighter than it used to be. For the first time since Jon left, she feels like she might not dream of him. The thought scares her a little, she doesn’t want to forget him. But she knows she might just need to. She can’t go on as she has forever.

She finds her brother Viserys waiting for her. He’s casually leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. Her shoulders fall a little at the sight of him. They aren’t close at all, partly because Viserys is older than her, but mostly because he’s always hated Jon and she’s always loved him.

“We missed you at dinner, sister,” he tells her as a greeting.

Somehow, Dany musters the strength to put a gracious smile on her lips. “I just wasn’t hungry.”

“You haven’t been hungry in a while.”

The intensity of his eyes on her makes Dany feel uncomfortable. She shifts her balance on her feet, wishes there was a way for her to escape the fire she can see in his purple gaze that is so much like her own, yet so different.

“I’ve been ill,” she reminds him.

He takes a step in her direction and she moves away from him. It’s only when her back hits the wall that she realizes her mistake. She looks around and her heart kicks in her chest when she realizes the hallway is empty. Where have the guards gone, she has no idea. There are no servants in sight either.

“I’m a little tired, Viserys, so if you don’t mind…” she tries to excuse herself and move past him. He doesn’t let her, taking yet another step toward her. He’s much taller than she is and he’s towering over her, his presence both suffocating and threatening.

“We can’t escape our fate, little sister,” he tells her.

One of his hands come up and settle on her waist. It is heavy and she can feel the heat of him through the fabric of her dress. It makes her want to vomit what little soup she managed to eat. His other hand brushes up and down her arm. Goose bumps break all over her skin, not because she takes any pleasure, but because she’s afraid.

“Don’t touch me!”

Finding her fire again, she yanks his hands off of her body.

“Don’t be so prudish, you didn’t mind it when it was that bastard’s hands on you,” he snarls.

Dany freezes at his words.

“What did you just say?”

Her fire, her outrage, have been replaced by cold fury, so much that she doesn’t recognize her own voice when she speaks.

“I saw the two of you kissing in the stables, but I assume he’s done more than that!” He shakes his head in disgust, spitting more than saying his next poisonous words. “How dared he a bastard, put his wicked hands on a princess of a royal blood? And how could you let him? You’re like Rhaegar, a traitor to your blood who dishonored our house when he bedded the Stark girl. If he had any care for our family at all, he should have killed the babe in his crib. How I wish father had killed him!”

Dany doesn’t realize she’s moved until her hand meets Viserys’ cheek. She slaps him with everything she has, and it’s not much considering the state she’s in, but it’s still enough for her brother to lose his balance. He stumbles back, holding his face.

“It’s because of little men like you this world is such a terrible place,” she tells him. “Jon may be a bastard, but he is ten times the man you are.”

“Father will hear about this!” He scowls.

“Go on, tell him. I’m not afraid for I, too, am ten times the man you are.”

xxx

Jon has been in Winterfell for only a couple of weeks when news of the King’s death reach him. His uncle Ned pulls him aside in his solar and shows him the raven.

Jon isn’t sad when he hears of his grand-sire’s death in a fire. Aerys, much like Visery, has always hated him and treated him with disgust and contempt. Jon remembers perfectly the pleased look on his face when he left King’s Landing, his proud smile.

No, Jon isn’t sad when he hears of the king’s death.

But he is floored nonetheless.

It’s the first time he’s hearing from his family in King’s Landing.

From the moment he left the capital, Jon resolved to leave this part of his life, this part of him, behind.

He resolved to leave _her _behind.

And he is failing miserably.

He thinks about Daenerys every day. The snow that falls from the sky reminds him of the color of her hair, he hears her voice in the wind, her laugh in the streams.

Daenerys.

Not Dany. Never Dany.

That girl, if she ever existed, if she was ever real, died of a fever. She left in her place Daenerys.

Cold, distant, cruel, Daenerys.

She tore his heart out of his chest that day.

_You always have been and you always will be nothing._

Stomped on it until it was in pieces.

_It’s time for me to move on to men of my station._

Then, she put it back in his chest and told him to leave.

Which he did.

And now, weeks later, he still hasn’t figured out how to fix his heart.

And more importantly, he still hasn’t figured out how to leave her behind.

xxx

Eddard Stark, the Lord of Winterfell, inherited his older brother’s title after he died in a riding accident. He also married his betrothed, Catelyn Tully, and together they have five children.

Robb is the oldest. His hair is auburn and his eyes a striking blue color. He is an excellent swordsman and an accomplished rider. Jon likes his boldness and the way he carries himself around. Much like his lord father, he holds himself with dignity, though he is far less stern than him.

Sansa comes second. She resembles her mother the most, in the sense that she is a proper lady. Her hair is red like fire, her eyes the same striking blue color as Robb’s. Her gaze is soft and her smile gentle. Jon doesn’t have much in common with her, but he admires her grace and elegance.

Arya is the third and she’s nothing like her sister. Firstly, she favors her father. She has the dark hair and gray eyes of the Starks. Everyone says she looks like Lyanna Stark, Jon’s mother. And it is true that Jon sees some of him in her. Secondly, Arya is no proper lady. She dreams of becoming a knight, so she follows her brothers around and does everything they do. She’s an excellent archer. Jon likes her the best. Her free spirit reminds him of his sister Rhaenys.

Bran is the fourth and he, too, dreams of becoming a knight. He’s still a young child, but he trains hard. Following after him is little Rickon, the last of the Stark children. He’s still a little boy with dreams that go from becoming a knight to becoming a dragon rider. Jon finds his youth and child’s dreams refreshing.

Being in Winterfell is easy for Jon. It shouldn’t come as a surprise. He’s always been told he favors his mother. It’s only natural that he would feel at home in her home. Because that is exactly how he feels among the Starks. He feels at home. It is easy to just _be _among his relatives in the North.

And yet, Jon can’t help but be surprised. For the first time in his life, he feels like he belongs somewhere.

It doesn’t mean people don’t hate him for being a bastard, because they do. People will be people, may they be in the South or in the North. Theon Greyjoy, his uncle’s ward, doesn’t like him and doesn’t try to hide it. He reminds Jon of Viserys, with his snide comments and contemptuous looks.

It’s nothing he isn’t used to, nothing he can’t deal with, and the happiness of being with his family outweighs the pain of being called a bastard.

xxx

He thinks of her every day.

She’s the first thing he thinks of upon waking. She’s his last thought before he drifts off to sleep.

Sleep doesn’t come easy and when it does, it’s not restful.

He sees her in his dreams. He kisses her, touches her, loves her, only to wake up a lonely fool in his bed. A fool because he loves a woman who played him, lied to him, manipulated him. A fool because he loves a woman who never existed.

Dany never existed, he becomes more convinced of it every day. He’s haunted by the memories of a woman that never existed. It’s driving him mad. He starts doubting everything… how she felt beneath him, the sounds of pleasure she made, the kisses she took from him and gave back. They were all an illusion. Unreal. Untrue.

He wonders if what happened between them was a joke she pulled on him with Viserys. He wonders if she faked everything. Every kiss, every touch, every cry of pleasure, all false. All wrong. All a lie. He wonders if she’s told Viserys everything by now, how she played him and how he fell for her.

_I love you_, he remembers saying. He pulls at his hair in anguish then.

_What a fool you’ve been, Jon Snow!_

He imagines them laughing at his expense as they lay naked in bed. Because he’s sure she’s bedded him, or Aegon, or any noble men at court. Maybe she’s bedded them all.

_It’s time for me to move on to men of my station._

It is when these thoughts come to him that his dreams turn to nightmares. He sees her in bed with other faceless men. He sees her fucking them, her hears her scream their names, though he can’t remember them after he wakes.

It kills him slowly.

xxx

One night, shortly after he hears of the king’s death, he has a different dream.

He’s back in her chambers, at night. A candle is burning on a table near her bed. She is lying on her bed, asleep. Beads of sweat cover her forehead, her delicate features are creased. Whimpers of pain escape her lips. She’s shivering, feverish.

He steps closer. She’s pale as death, her hands clenching the sheets that cover her body.

The sight of her tugs at Jon’s heart. In a second, he’s kneeling at her side. He grabs one of her hands, brings his free one to her forehead. She’s burning up under his palm.

The dream feels realer than anything he’s ever lived.

“Jon,” she whispers weakly.

_Open your eyes_, he wills her. He is suddenly desperate for the sight of her lilac orbs.

“Open your eyes, Dany,” he tells her.

She doesn’t, but he does.

And when he wakes up, his legs feel as if they’ve been set on fire and the scent of lemon and sunshine lingers in his room, bringing him to tears.

xxx

His family is his salvation.

Every time Robb pulls him into a sparring session, every time Arya’s arrow reaches its target, every time Sansa shows him her needlework, he comes back to life.

Every time his uncle Ned tells him of his mother, every time Bran climbs a wall, every time Rickon laughter fills the walls of Winterfell, he puts the pieces of his heart back together.

Every time they accept him as one their own, as a member of the pack, he heals.

xxx

Jon, Robb, and Ned find the dead direwolf in the woods. She was killed by a boar, but not before she delivered a fatal blow to the creature that took her life. It lays at her feet, dead and covered with flies.

The three of them dismount for they hear sad whimpering sounds. They find pups, five of them.

“We ought to kill them,” Ned says. “It’s best if we give them a swift death than if we let them starve.” He reaches for his sword. Robb stops him.

“Father, no!” He pleads with him. “Let’s bring them back to Winterfell. We’ll take care of them.”

“There are five pups,” Jon adds, examining the small bundles of fur more carefully. “Three males and two females. One for each of your children, uncle.”

Ned Stark resolve sways, they can see it. “You must take care of them,” he tells Robb. “You and your siblings. And more importantly, you must train them. If not…” his hand rests still on the hilt of his sword.

They’re about to leave when they hear another cry. Jon returns to the direwolf’s carcass and pulls out one last pup. It’s white as snow, with glowing red eyes.

An albino.

“That one is yours, Jon,” Ned says softly.

“I’m not a Stark,” he replies.

Yet, the longer he stares at the pup, the more protective of it he feels.

“You may not have my name,” Ned tells him. “But you are my blood. The pup is yours.”

Jon names him Ghost. His dreams change after that, he has fewer nightmares. He starts dreaming that he is a wolf, running around in the forest.

All his life he’s wanted to be his father’s son when he was always his mother’s. After he gets Ghost, he decides to shed his wings. He was never a dragon anyway, they never carried him anywhere.

Jon sheds his wings and embraces the wolf. He becomes who he’s always been.

Lyanna Stark’s son.

xxx

It’s only when he starts finding himself again that Jon is able to write to his family in King’s Landing. He writes to Rhaenys and Aegon. Sometimes, he writes to his father too.

He never writes to Daenerys.

Neither Rhaenys nor Aegon mention her in their letters to him. She might as well be dead. The thought unsettles him more than he’s comfortable admitting. He hasn’t forgotten about his dream, he still remembers her paleness…

_What of it? It was only a dream._

He still dreams of her, the moon that watches over men as they sleep will not let him forget about her.

He waits for Aegon to announce their wedding. He waits for Aegon to announce she’s with child.

He never does.

And sometimes, when he dreams of Daenerys, she is with a little girl. A little girl with silver hair and dark gray eyes.

xxx

He goes to the brothel with Robb and Theon once. But just like all these moons ago when he went with Aegon, he’s unable to do it.

Ros, is beautiful, there’s no denying that. But he can’t do it. The fear of siring another bastard holds him back. That and the thought of Daenerys.

He hates himself for it, but he can’t help but think he’d be betraying her if he laid with another woman.

_I want to be yours and I want you to be mine._

Another lie.

But he hears her voice loud in his head nonetheless and he has to take a few steps back away from Ros.

xxx

Theon teases him endlessly about it.

“He doesn’t know where to put it! He’s still a green boy!”

“I know where to put it!” Jon screams in frustration.

“Obviously not, bastard, or you would have fucked the whore…”

If not for Robb holding him back, Jon would have beaten him to a pulp. Theon must see the fury in his eyes, because he leave the two of them alone.

Jon and Robb end up sitting around the fire, goblets of ale in their hands. Jon tells Robb about his fear of siring a bastard. Then, because he’s drunk enough, he tells him about Daenerys. About what she did, how she played him. He tells him everything, even how she’s still haunting him. There are tears in his eyes, but his cousin doesn’t judge him.

“You need to forget about her,” he tells him. “Best way to forget about a woman is to replace her with another woman.”

“There’s no one like Daenerys,” Jon points out.

“I should hope so. I wish your brother luck when he marries that one.”

Jon looks down at his goblet of ale, the thought of Aegon and Daenerys together still hurting him.

“Come on, Jon, let’s find you a woman. And don’t worry about siring a bastard. There are ways to prevent _that _from happening.”

xxx

Jon hasn’t been in Winterfell a year when he hears his sister Rhaenys has run away from King’s Landing, from her wedding to Viserys, from everything.

His laughter echoes between the stone walls of Winterfell when he reads the raven she’s written him. She’s finally decided to live her life as she wishes, free from men and their desires. She’s on a boat with Yara Greyjoy, finally going on an adventure.

_“Thank you, dear brother. I might never have left, had you not showed me the way._

_Love always,_

_Rhaenys.”_

He smiles at her last words and warmth spreads in his veins at his sister’s obvious happiness.

Rhaenys was happy when she was a child, but the older she got, the more the Red Keep felt like a prison and the Targaryen name like chains. Everyone knew it, Jon especially for he understood that particular feeling better than most.

His sister was never meant to be a pretty lady in a castle, someone’s wife. She was like the wind, wild and free.

And that night, when he goes to sleep, he pictures her on a boat, wearing her hair down and a pair of trousers. She has never looked more like herself than in his imagination.

xxx

Time passes and the wolves of Winterfell grow bigger, stronger.

Jon feels more like a Stark than he ever did a Targaryen. Robb has become his best friend, his confidant. They’re always together, either training, studying or hunting. Jon feels different around him than he did around his own brother. It’s strange, really. Robb is as much a trueborn as Aegon, and Jon, no matter what he tells himself, is no more a Stark than a Targaryen. Yet, he doesn’t resent his cousin like he did his brother.

It makes him wonder if he ever hated his brother because he was true and he wasn’t and people always hated him for it. And he knows it was never about being true and a bastard.

It was all about Daenerys.

And much to his surprise, he still hasn’t heard news of a royal wedding yet.

He finds it odd, but doesn’t dare asking Aegon about it in his letters to him. He’s better off not knowing anyway.

He doesn’t dream of as often as he used to. She’s not the first thing that comes to his mind in the morning, nor does he drift to sleep to the memory of her beautiful lilac eyes. Days can pass without him thinking of her at all.

A year has passed since he’s last seen her and he’s finally starting to heal.

xxx

Winter comes and snow falls, covering the country in a cold white blanket.

Winter comes and it’s the coldest winter they have seen in recent years.

Violent storms force people inside the sturdy walls of Winterfell for days on end. Darkness takes over the north as starless nights settle over Westeros. Jon never much cared for the heat of King’s Landing but he quickly starts missing the sun, its light and the comfort it brings that hope and life will prevail.

Winter is here. And winter takes again and again with its cruel cold bite and it doesn’t make a difference between rich and poor, lords and peasants, kings and commoners.

Little Rickon gets sick. He’s still a young boy and the fever quickly consumes what little strength he has. Sansa follows him. She’s stronger than he is, being older and all, but the fever is strong too. She is so frail and pale in her sickness, Jon fears they might lose her.

But they don’t. She recovers, thanks to the pack who takes good care of her. Even Arya, who doesn’t get along with her sister at all, holds her hand through the night.

Sansa recovers. But, sadly, Rickon doesn’t.

They bury him in the crypts of Winterfell, where Jon mother’s rest. He will forever be haunted by the cries of despair and agony of Lady Catelyn. He can’t begin to fathom the pain she’s in. Even his uncle sheds a tear. The sight of this strong solid man crying shakes him to his core.

xxx

They don’t have time to mourn him, for their uncle Benjen comes down from the Wall with dire news. An army of Wildlings is about to launch an attack and there’s not enough men in the Night’s Watch to stop them.

Lord Stark understands the importance of the threat. He knows what will happen if Castle Black falls and the Wildlings make it south. They’ll raid and pillage the country, raping and killing the small folks as they go.

So he does the only thing he can do, the right thing. He gathers his bannermen, calls them from their retreat in their own castles and marches north. Robb and Jon go with him, their direwolves at their sides.

Leaving Winterfell is not easy. But they muster their courage and go to war.

xxx

They see the Wall far before they reach it. It’s entirely made of ice, so high and cold and threatening, yet so beautiful and mesmerizing. Jon has never seen anything quite like it and he’s grown up in King’s Landing, in the Red Keep from which he could see the Great Sept of Baelor. He is immediately in awe of it.

The closer they get, the more scared he becomes. All his life, he has trained to become a warrior. But he’s never had to actually fight anyone. The thought that in a few days he’ll be fighting real people unsettles him. He’s never killed anyone. He’s not sure he wants to. He’s seen death take his youngest cousin. He’s not sure he wants to be its instrument. Because he knows the people he’ll fight will be someone’s cousin, brother, husband, father.

One look at Robb tells him his cousin feels the same.

“Taking a life is never pleasant,” Ned tells them. “But it is our duty to protect the people of Westeros.”

Jon has always dreamt of being a hero. He’s always wanted to be like the Targaryens who came before him. But that’s not the reason why he’ll fight in the morrow. He’ll fight for the people and will take no pleasure in ending anyone’s life.

xxx

When they reach Castle Black, the battle has already started. The castle is on fire and the sound of swords clashing together and arrows piercing the air fill the silent night.

They throw themselves into the fight without thinking. Jon has always been a good swordsman but the fear of actually dying increases his abilities tenfold. Ghost fights beside him, following him around like a second shadow and protecting him.

Fighting is not pretty. There’s blood everywhere, bowels too. Any other day, Jon might have thrown up. But not that day, there is no time for weaknesses. Bones crack as skulls break and the smell of shit mixes with the smell of fear and death.

The battle lasts long enough for his arm to start feeling heavy. Jon, who’d never had any problem lifting his sword, is wavering. But he can’t stop fighting for if he does, he’ll die.

xxx

He’s fighting a faceless red-haired man that is twice as large as he is when he hears the howling of a wolf.

His blood freezes.

_Robb._

He kicks his opponent in the face with his boot and breaks his nose with a crunching noise. He runs away and follows after Ghost who guides him to his cousin. He’s fighting the giant that broke the door in the Wall with Greywind. His direwolf’s fur is bloody and Robb himself has a deep cut on his forehead.

Without thinking, Jon slams his sword on the giant’s hand cutting off some of his fingers in the process. The giant roars and turns his attention to him. Behind him, Jon sees Robb scramble for his bow. They nod at each other, understanding the other wordlessly.

It almost feels like they’re back in Winterfell, training under the watchful gaze of Ser Rodrick. Almost. Jon attacks the giant, distracting him, buying Robb enough time for him to nock an arrow and pierce his eye. The giant falls to the ground, making it shake terribly.

The two cousins stand in front of one another, both trembling like leaves blown away by the winter winds. Until suddenly, Robb’s expression shifts to fear.

“Behind you!” He screams.

Jon barely has time to spin around that the red-haired man from before, his face all broken and bloody, knocks him down with a blow to his head. Jon falls to the ground and the last thing he sees before losing consciousness is the silver light of the moon.

xxx

Jon is back in the clearing.

Their clearing.

The grass is soft under his back and the familiar sound of the stream is music to his ears. The sun filters through the canopy of trees, caressing his face like a mother’s tender touch. He’s warm all over, a feeling he thought he’d never experience again.

He closes his eyes, feeling more relaxed than ever. He’s about to drift off to sleep when he feels _her _hand on his.

He doesn’t have to see her to know it’s her. He’d recognize her touch and the softness of her skin anywhere.

“Open your eyes, Jon,” she says, her voice so clear it sounds real.

Her other hand comes up to his face. She caresses his cheek, her thumb trailing down to brush the corner of his mouth, his lower lip…

“Come on, Jon, open your eyes,” she says again. She must have moved closer to him because he can feel her breathe against his skin as she speaks. The scent of lemon and spices, of life and fire fills his nose, making his heart ache and long for what never was.

“Dany,” he whispers.

He wants to open his eyes, not to oblige her, but because he is a fool, her fool and he just wants to see her again. Then he can go back to sleep forever.

Her lips on his surprise him. Then he kisses her back, eagerly taking the life she offers him.

xxx

“Jon? Open your eyes.”

His eyelids are heavy but he manages to crack his eyes open. He’s disappointed when his gaze meets the blue one of Robb. The taste of fire lingers in his mouth, as does the scent of lemon on his skin.

“God, you scared me, cousin!”

Robb pulls him in a hard embrace. Jon winces in pain. He feels like he’s been trampled by a horse, there’s not a single part of his body that doesn’t hurt.

Then it comes back to him. The battle, the giant…

“What happened?” He asks, bringing a hand up where his head is throbbing.

“We won,” Robb tells him grimly. “We’ve lost many, but we managed to repel the Wildlings. Their king, Mance Ryder is rotting in our cells.”

Relief floods Jon. They have won, Westeros is safe from the invaders.

“You were hit pretty badly,” Robb goes on, handing him a small mirror.

Jon is a bit repulsed by the wound on his head. It’s a nasty one, an angry red swollen line going from his forehead to his cheek.

“At least, I didn’t lose the eye,” he eventually says, carefully prodding his cheek.

Robb chuckles. “Aye, and once it’s finished scarring, no one in their right mind will ever call you pretty again.”

Jon grunts in annoyance and lies back down in bed. He is quick to fall asleep again, but this time, his sleep is deep and dreamless.

xxx

Jon is surprised when Jeor Mormont, the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch offers him to stay and take the black.

“I’ve seen you fight during the battle. We could use men like you to defend the Wall.”

His offer unsettles Jon. Since leaving King’s Landing, he hasn’t given much thought to his future. He knows there’s not much in store for him. He’s a bastard with no name to give to a potential wife and then pass off to eventual children. He has no land, no title, nothing.

He is nothing.

_You’re a bastard, you’re nothing._

Her voice is loud and clear in his head. He clenches his fists in anger.

“Why bring me back to life if there’s nothing for me here?” He yells at the moon, his anguish suffocating.

She doesn’t reply of course, she almost seems to be mocking him from where she shines high in the sky, still out of his reach, out of his world, even now that he’s standing atop the highest wall in the world.

“What’s gotten into you, Snow?”

“Nothing, Stark,” he grunts, ashamed to have been caught brooding.

Robb comes to stand next to him. They are silent for a while.

“Everything looks so small from up here, don’t you think?” Robb eventually says.

Jon nods. It’s actually what makes the Wall such a great place for thinking. Everything feels insignificant. Even being a bastard.

“Mance’s execution will take place in the morrow,” Robb goes on. “Father will do it, for the man who passes the sentence…”

“…must swing the sword,” Jon finishes. He’s learned more about honor and duty during the year he’s spent with his Stark family than he has in his entire life in King’s Landing.

“The Lord Commander Mormont suggested I take the black,” he finally admitted.

Robb blinked, for a second looking as puzzled as Jon himself does. “Are you going to?”

Jon shrugs. “Haven’t made up my mind yet.”

Robb doesn’t say anything for the longest time, but when he does, his words shake Jon to his core.

“I know you think there is no place for you in this world, but you should know that the tale of the giant’s slayers, is spreading like wildfire. Soon enough, bards will be singing our praises,” he laughs and shakes his head, though Jon knows he doesn’t find this really amusing. Too much blood was spilled during the battle for either of them to find the situation amusing.

“_Our _praises, Jon,” Robb insists. “The Young Wolf _and_ the White Wolf of Winterfell,” he smiles and this time, it’s genuine. “I don’t know about the world, but there will always be a place for you beside me.”

Then, he offers Jon his arm. He doesn’t hesitate before taking it. He knows immediately that there are cousins no more.

They have become brothers.

xxx

That night Jon dreams of the Red Keep, of its beautiful gardens in which he played as a child. The lemon trees are tall and strong, their roots deeply planted in the ground. Birds chirp happily on their branches. The sun is up and hot. Flowers fill the air with their sweetness.

It’s a beautiful dream.

Then he hears the sound of a child’s laughter echo in the wind. A little girl with white silver hair passes by him. She’s chasing after a big white wolf with dark red eyes.

When she turns to look at him, the expectant look in her dark gray eyes takes his breath away.

“Father,” she whispers.

It’s yet another fool’s dream, but it’s his dream.

His dream of spring.

xxx

Jon doesn’t take the black. He goes back to Winterfell instead, to be with his family.

When they make it back, he has barely enough time to dismount his horse before Arya jumps in his arms. He catches her and holds her to him. That’s when he knows he’s made the right choice.

And upon their return, Ser Rodrick Cassel knights him in front of the most important bannermen of the North.

“Kneel, Jon Snow of House Stark and Targaryen. In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave. In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just. In the name of the Mother, I charge you to defend the innocent. Arise, Ser Jon Snow, a knight of the Seven Kingdoms.”

When Jon rises, under a thunder of applauses, he feels as though his heart might burst. He meets the gaze of his uncle, who only smiles at him. He’s not a knight himself, for he still follows the Old Gods of the North, but Jon knows it was all his idea. He quickly thanks the Gods, old and new, for blessing him with such a great family.

xxx

After the ceremony, Jon visits his mother in the crypts of Winterfell. He hasn’t been down there much. Actually, he’s only been there once, when they buried little Rickon. And that felt like it happened years ago now, when it is only weeks away.

He doesn’t know why, but he’s been afraid to come down and see her. Ghosts don’t exist, he knows, but he’s afraid of hers nonetheless, afraid of disappointing her somehow.

It doesn’t make much sense, he knows, and he tells her so as he apologizes.

“Forgive me, mother,” he whispers, his throat tight with emotions.

“She would have been proud of you, Jon.”

He looks to his side and sees his uncle Ned walk up to him, the look on his face solemn.

“Do you really think so?”

He nods. “I know so. You’ve probably heard this before, but you look a lot like her, and not just on the outside. Though, there is a little bit of your father in you too.”

“Thank you for everything you’ve done for me uncle.”

He smiles, but there’s a sadness to it. “I don’t want Lyanna’s ghost to come back and murder me if I don’t take good care of her boy. You actually scared me during the battle, boy. Don’t do that again,” he pointed at the scar on the side of Jon’s face.

“I promise.”

“And have you given any thought to your coat of arms, Ser Jon?”

Jon smiles upon hearing the title. It sounds a little odd, but he knows he’ll get used to it. He’s not just a bastard anymore. He’s Ser Jon Snow, a protector of the Seven Kingdoms. His mother was a highborn lady, his father is a king. The shame of his birth that he has carried on his shoulders all his life, diminishes a little, replaced with pride.

“I have actually,” he says, his eyes falling on his mother’s face. “I was thinking of blue roses.”

Ned stares at him. “You really are your mother’s son,” he eventually says, before embracing him.

xxx

Dany dreams of fire. It licks at her skin, consumes her flesh. It tries to kill her, to burn her away.

_“I deserve this,”_ she thinks. _“I deserve to die.”_

The smoke suffocates her and when she finally wakes from her nightmare, she can’t breathe.

She falls from her bed and drags herself out on her balcony. She shivers when the cool air of the night touches her skin which is wet with sweat. She doesn’t let that stop her and lies back on the cold stone. She inhales as deeply as she can, forcing the air down her throat and to her lungs. It takes some time, but her breathing eventually evens. Her heart doesn’t, it keeps pounding in her chest, pumping fear into her veins.

She is still shivering and she revels in the feeling. She wants to be cold, needs to kill the fire. She closes her eyes and savors the caress of the soft breeze on her skin. It’s soft and soothing like a mother’s touch, exactly what she needs. Soon, she falls asleep and this time, she dreams of mountains of snow and fields of blue roses.

xxx

Ser Jaime finds her in the morrow. He always does.

He wakes her up gently before carrying her back inside. He doesn’t ask any questions, he doesn’t need to. He’s been plagued by the same dreams as she has since that fateful night five years ago. He’s never said so, but she knows. There’s no mistaking the shadow in his green eyes.

“I’ll get Talisa,” he says after setting her on her bed.

“Thank you, Ser Jaime.”

He bows his head before retiring. She watches him leave, her golden lion, her savior, and wishes that he could protect her from the monsters in her head as well. She doesn’t ask him to stay, for she is a girl no more. Besides, the shadows of the night are already retreating to the back of her mind, chased away by the golden sun.

The three-year winter has been over for over a year now and the long summer has begun. The kingdom is rejoicing and a great tourney has been going on in King’s Landing, to celebrate the better times ahead of them. The final joust is set to take place that very day and Dany doesn’t doubt that Aegon will win and bring glory to house Targaryen.

Nobles from all the country have gathered in King’s Landing for the occasion and while many great knights and lords have distinguished themselves day after day, the courtiers only have two names on their lips, those of Robb Stark, the Young Wolf of Winterfell and his cousin, the Knight of the Winter Rose, Jon Snow. They all wonder why the heroes of Castle Black, who fought off an army of Wildlings and slayed a giant with their direwolves in the dead of winter haven’t travelled down to the capital, when all they’ve done since winter ended is win tourneys organized all over the country by lords eager to comfort their people.

Only two people know why they haven’t come down south.

Jaime and Daenerys.

As always, thoughts of Jon make her ache. It’s been five years, but time hasn’t really helped. She sighs, darkness plaguing her mind once more and dragging her down… until she’s distracted from it by the arrival of Talisa, a high-born Essosi woman who came into her life when she was at her lowest.

“You had another nightmare, didn’t you?” She asks after taking one look at her.

“Is that so obvious?”

The dark-haired woman nods. “Did you take your potion last night?”

Dany makes a non-committal sound. Talisa takes it for the negative answer that it is.

“We’ve had this conversation before. You have to take it.”

“It kills my dreams.”

“That’s precisely the point! For you not to dream.”

Dany looks down at her hands in her lap, her cheeks reddening. She knows Talisa, a healer trained in Essos, is only trying to help her. That’s what she’s been doing ever since she came into her life: help and heal her. But there are things that even she can’t fix.

“Take the potion tonight, please?” Talisa says, her voice softening a little. “I hate seeing you like this.”

“I hate feeling like this too,” Dany concedes.

“Then take the bloody potion!” They both laugh at that. “Now, I’ll draw you a bath. Do you feel like eating anything afterwards?”

“I think I’ll have some berries, if there’s any to be had.”

Talisa smiles. “That’s more like you.”

xxx

It doesn’t matter how many times Dany has taken her oily herbal water bath, she’s still amused by the green and purple leaves that dance on the surface. She smiles in content, her mind and soul soothed by the smell of oil and salt.

“So, today’s the big day,” Talisa says from where she’s sitting next to her. “Aegon will crown Margaery Tyrell Queen of Love and Beauty and make their betrothal official. This must be a little weird for you.”

Dany’s shoulders fall a little. “Why?”

“Well, once upon a time, you would have been his queen. If not for…” Talisa stops herself, unsure of what to say. Dany follows her eyes and looks down at her legs. Something clenches painfully in her stomach when she sees them. She, who was once called the most beautiful woman in the world, is only a pretty face now, for her body is the most hideous thing. On her back, she bears the mark of her father’s belt. And on her legs, she bears the mark of his madness.

“I’m sorry,” Talisa says, “that was insensitive.”

Dany shakes her head. “No, my friend. You’re only speaking the truth. I can be no one’s wife now, not with those…” She brings her ruined legs to her chest and rests her chin on her knees.

“Aegon would have taken you for his wife. You’re the one who said no,” Talisa reminded her.

“He didn’t see my legs. If he had, he wouldn’t have wanted me. No man in his right mind could make love to me now.”

It’s obvious Talisa has a lot to say to that but she doesn’t and for that, Dany is grateful. She doesn’t want to hear yet again about a man who would want a broken woman for a wife. She knows no such man exists. It’s taken her years, but she’s finally accepted that she will never marry, never hold a child of her own in her arms.

To believe differently is a fool’s dream. And Dany is a fool no more, her father made sure of that before he left this world.

xxx

“The Crown Prince looks so handsome today, doesn’t he?”

Dany hears many ladies swoon from where she’s sitting next to her brother Rhaegar, in the royal stand. And she can’t help but agree with them. Aegon does look good in his black armor, embedded with flamboyant rubies, his long silver hair flowing in the wind. He’s never looked like his father more than he does in this moment. And when Dany glances her brother’s way, Rhaegar’s eyes shine with unadulterated pride.

“He does look good,” another lady agrees, “but my sister and I have seen his brother ride at the Tourney of the Vale, and let me tell you, _that _was something.”

Dany stiffens at the mention of Aegon’s brother. She knows she ought to stop listening to the ladies’ conversation, it’s neither polite nor proper, but she can’t help herself.

“He was swift as the wind on his mount, a most gracious knight, really,” the lady goes on. “But my sister assured me he’s very much a wolf when the night comes.”

They all giggle. Dany clenches her fists. She hates herself for how her blood boils in her veins, but she can’t help it.

It’s been over five years since Dany has last seen Jon and from what she’s heard he’s turned into a great man and an even greater warrior, a Knight of the Seven Kingdoms.

The tale of the battle of Castle Black reached King’s Landing in the midst of winter and the Song of the Two Wolves quickly became extremely popular. Then, more stories came from the North, stories of two young wolves braving the elements to bring grains to the most isolated areas of the realm.

That doesn’t really surprise Dany, she’s always known Jon had the potential for greatness. She’s surprised by the other things she hears about him, for those aren’t the first rumors she hears about his love for women and their love for him. Many have been circulating, for years now. The boy she once knew and loved wasn’t like that, but there doesn’t seem to be much left of him anyway.

“I must thank you again, dear sister,” Rhaegar starts saying, his hand taking a hold of hers, “for all your help. I could not have done any of this without you.”

Dany smiles and slightly turns her head away, to hide her blush. When her brother ascended to the throne, he was meant to be a lonely king, for he had not taken another wife after the passing of Elia Martell. It was Dany, after she recovered from her accident, who became the lady of the Red Keep, organizing feasts and entertaining guests in her brother’s name.

“It is I who ought to thank you,” she replies, her throat tight with emotions, “for being so kind to me.”

Rhaegar doesn’t reply to that. He just brings her hand to his lips and kisses it tenderly.

xxx

It all happens so quickly, Dany doesn’t realize something terrible has just happened until it’s all over.

One second, Aegon is standing proudly on his horse and the next, he has fallen from his mount and is being trampled over by the wild stallion.

The silence that follows is deafening and for a second, it’s as if they’re all stuck underwater. Time slows down as everyone in the stands holds their breath. They wait and wait… but Aegon doesn’t move. He doesn’t get up.

Until someone screams, a woman. Time starts moving again.

Dany inhales sharply.

Rhaegar jumps from the stand and rushes to his son’s side.

Dany can’t move, she’s paralyzed.

Paralyzed by fear, stuck by grief. Because she knows. Deep down, she knows.

Knights in golden armors also rush to the fallen prince’s side.

Tears flood Dany’s cheeks.

Aegon’s helmet is gone and his face has lost all of its ethereal beautiful. It’s now all dirty, bloody and broken, as is the rest of his body.

One of his legs is bent in a very odd way and his right arm, the one that wielded his sword so expertly, is twisted in a way that makes Dany’s stomach churn.

He looks like a puppet whose threads have been cut.

Cut short like his life that just ended.

xxx

Days pass in a blur.

They don’t burn Aegon right away. They wait for Rhaenys to come home to King’s Landing. Most of his Dornish family was already there for the tourney, but not Rhaenys. She deserves to say one last goodbye to her brother.

The sun and the moon keeps chasing each other in the sky, as night turns to day. They’re all completely oblivious to the tragedy that’s just hit the Seven Kingdoms.

The realm mourns the loss of its prince. Dany mourns the loss of her blood. Yet, it’s a strange kind of grief for everything feels surreal. It’s like all of it is happening to another person, her life doesn’t feel like her own anymore.

Except, it’s not. It’s her life, her nephew, her kin who died. It’s her brother who lost his son, his heir and now can’t get up in the morning. It’s her family who’s more fragile than it’s ever been. She can’t count on Viserys to hold their family together, so she has to be the one who does it.

And so that’s what she does. When it becomes obvious Rhaegar is too overcome with grief, she steps in and in doing so she pushes back her own pain and grief. There’ll be plenty of time to deal with them later anyway. She’s busy all day, talks to people, oversees things, the funeral… when she goes to sleep, she’s too exhausted to dream of fire and death.

One night, she dreams of a wolf. His fur is white as snow, his eyes red like embers. The wolf is running down a path surrounded by trees tall enough to reach the sky, or so it seems. The wolf is in a hurry. He sometimes stops to howl at the moon. It’s a broken cry, laden with pain. The forest is silent, respectful of his grief.

She wakes up with her heart pounding in her chest. But for once, it’s not fear running down her veins, but anticipation.

xxx

It’s been almost a fortnight. The Martells arrived a couple days ago. Rhaenys’ boat docked in the morning and the sight of his daughter brought Rhaegar to tears.

Dany has yet to see the body.

She’s been so busy, she hasn’t had the time. At least, that’s what she tells herself. The truth is she doesn’t want to see him, she can’t.

She and Aegon always had a sibling-like relationship. He’s been her friend all her life and after Jon left, they grew even closer. He was there with her throughout her recovery on Dragonstone, putting a smile on her face when she cried and holding her hand when the pain was too much for her to take.

Seeing him now so still, so cold and pale, he who was once so full of life, is too painful.

Hence why it takes her days to visit him.

And when she does, she breaks.

She collapses on her knees, the weight of everything crushing her on the Sept of Baelor’s cold floor. Rivers of tears run down her cheeks as the emotions she’s tried so hard to repress take over. She cries until she can’t breathe anymore, until her eyes are dried and her body is shaking, from the cold that has seeped into her bones.

“I’m sorry,” she croaks, her voice hoarse. “I’m so sorry…”

She doesn’t know why she apologizes. She just does.

She kisses his forehead and even though she is still not much of a believer, she prays the Gods to take good care of him.

xxx

She’s about to leave when she feels the heavy weight of someone’s gaze on her. Whoever they are, she didn’t hear them coming.

A shiver runs down her spine.

She takes a deep breath, turns around.

The first thing she sees are glowing red eyes. They belong to an enormous wolf, big enough to at least reach her waist. His fur is white as snow. It looks soft and warm. She pictures her fingers running through it.

She clenches her hand.

_Don’t_ _go there_, she tells herself.

The wolf isn’t alone, she knows, but his master is nowhere to be seen. He lingers in the shadows, something he already did as a child. She wasn’t afraid then, but she is now, for she can feel the tension in the room.

Goose bumps break all over her skin. She steels herself, musters the strength to speak.

“Hello Jon.”

Then she waits.


	2. Your Tears Are a Sea for Me to Swim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> As promised, here's the second part of the story! I'm not entirely satisfied with the ending, but I hope you'll find it to your liking. I had a blast writing this story and I'm happy I get to share it with you. Thank you so much for your support and to the people who commented and left kudos on this work. I hope to be back with more Jonerys stories in the future.
> 
> Happy reading!

Another Fool’s Dream

Part 2: Your Tears Are a Sea for Me to Swim

Jon comes out of the shadows. He’s as smooth and silent as his wolf and something in his expression tells Dany he’s just as lethal.

She doesn’t recognize him at first.

He seems taller and perhaps he is. He’s definitely bulkier, but hasn’t lost his leanness and grace. He’s got the body of a trained warrior and not a green boy. Dany thinks back of the things she’s heard about him… it’s no wonder women swoon just at the thought of him. He was always pretty, but he’s now handsome, a grown man tried by life and hardships.

In fact, his features have lost all their softness, telling Dany the boy she loves is gone. His face is now that of a man who’s survived a difficult winter. There’s a scar on the side of his head. She wonders if it’s a memory from the battle that has made him so renowned. She tries to remember his song, tries to remember an injury in the lyrics… nothing comes to her mind. They never mention such things in the songs anyway. All she remembers from this time is a stolen kiss, in a half-forgotten dream…

His hair is a few shades darker and he now wears it tied behind his head in a severe bun. His dark gray eyes are the same as ever, except there is no tenderness in them as they look upon her. Only distrust and hostility and of course, grief. His mouth is the same and she wonders if he tastes the same as he did before.

Probably not.

He’s clad in black. Blue roses adorn his cloak making it clear that while it was Rhaegar Targaryen’s bastard that left King’s Landing, it’s most definitely Lyanna Stark’s son that has returned.

And for all that she knew Jon once upon a time, Dany doesn’t know the person standing in front of her. He’s a stranger, mysterious and dangerous.

“I’d like a few moments alone with my brother,” is all he says and she almost doesn’t understand him. Even his accent is now changed.

“Of course,” she bows her head, her heart suddenly far heavier in her chest.

He’s been gone from King’s Landing for five years now. He never saw his brother alive again, all because of her. He must hate her so much and she can’t find it in herself to blame him. She hates herself too.

Her heart sinking in her chest, he hurries out so that he will not see her cry.

xxx

She stops outside the Sept of Baelor and leans on one of its solid stone columns. She muffles her cries with one hand, holding her chest with the other.

“Are you alright?”

She looks up and meets the bluest eyes she’s ever seen. They belong to a tall young man, with auburn hair. The snarling wolves of house Stark are embroidered on his tunic. A huge gray direwolf is at his side.

She’s never seen him before, but there’s no doubt as to who he is.

Robb Stark.

She wipes at her eyes and tries to compose herself. She fails, but he pretends not to notice and keeps on talking.

“Forgive me, Your Grace. That was an idiotic thing to ask.” He pauses, unsure of what to say next. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Dany nods in acceptance. “I thank you for your condolences, my lord.”

“I must apologize for I have not properly introduced myself. I’m Robb Stark of Winterfell.”

She smiles, points at the direwolf at his side. The beast is as huge as Jon’s and it takes Dany all her courage to look unafraid. “I figured. I’m Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen.”

He points at her hair, her white silver hair that makes her so recognizable. “I figured.”

They both smile at each other. She offers him her hand and he kisses the back of it.

“I’ve travelled down with my cousin. We came as soon as we heard news of the prince’s passing…”

The quick way with which he justifies their presence in King’s Landing makes Dany somewhat uneasy. What has Jon told him about her? Terrible things, she assumes, all well-deserved, she’s sure. Yet, she sees only kindness in his blue eyes. Perhaps, he has decided to make up his mind about her on his own. If that’s the case, she’s grateful to him.

“I’m sure seeing his son will do some good to my brother the king. But tell me, have you just arrived today?”

He nods. “Aye, came straight here after we passed the gates.”

“Then you must be exhausted, Gods know it’s a long journey from Winterfell! I’ll have rooms prepared for you in the Red Keep, as well as meals.”

“Your Grace is too kind, we don’t want to impose…”

“I must insist, my lord,” she replies, kindly but firmly. “I will not leave anyone related to me to fend for themselves in this city.”

They stare at each other for a minute. Dany dares him to say something, anything, to protest. She knows if he does, it will not be Robb speaking, but Jon. And when the heir of Winterfell bows his head in silent surrender, she knows she’s won at least this round.

xxx

Dany finds Rhaegar in his solar. He’s finally gotten up from his bed, but he’s never looked more unkempt. More than unkempt, he looks _old_. In a matter of days, his silver hair has turned all white. His face is creased, his eyes crinkled. It’s like he’s aged thirty years.

She runs into Tywin Lannister, former Hand of the King to her father, when she arrives.

“Lord Tywin,” she says.

“Your Grace,” he bows his head before hurrying away.

She steps inside Rhaegar’s solar, a million questions dancing on the tip of her tongue. The trail of food she brought him before going to the Sept of Baelor remains untouched. Her shoulders fall a little. She sighs.

“You must eat, Rhaegar.”

She feels like a mother scolding her child.

“I’m not hungry.”

His voice is barely louder than a whisper. He looks so small sitting in his chair, he reminds her of a lost little boy. Dany stares at him, feeling more powerless than she ever has in her entire life. Not for the first time, she wishes there was a way for her to take away his sorrow and pain.

“Well, if you’re not about to eat, you might as well speak with me.” She sits in front of him. “What did Tywin Lannister want from you?”

Rhaegar closes his eyes. ““The power of the crown is too fragile”, he says, “you need to show this storm hasn’t taken you down”, he says.” He pauses, a bitter grimace twisting his beautiful face. “He is urging me to name Viserys my heir.”

Dany’s blood freezes in her veins. Cold sweat beads down her neck.

“Viserys? Your heir? You can’t. You know how he is. He is… like _him_.”

Her hands are clasped tightly around her scarred knees and she swears she can feel the puckered skin through the fabric of her dress. She shuts her eyes as she feels the heat of flames against her skin and hears once more the maniac laugh of her persecutor. Out of the three of them, Viserys is the one who resembles their father the most. He cannot be allowed to be king.

“And who am I going to name if not him? Rhaenys? Westeros will not accept her, not after she’s made her love for women so obvious. You? I wish I could, dear sister, but so long as there is a trueborn Targaryen male living and breathing, you’re destined to be another Rhaenyra Targaryen. And I would never expose you to that kind of danger.”

She is silent for the longest time and Rhaegar thinks she agrees with him.

“Viserys will be my heir, there is no one else…”

“You have another son,” she cuts him off. The words tumble out of her mouth without her consent, but once they’re spoken, there’s no taking them back.

“You have another son,” she says again, louder, regaining some confidence.

A flash of hurt crosses her brother’s eyes. “Jon hasn’t been here in five years.”

“He is here now.”

Rhaegar stares at her in disbelief.

“I just saw him at the Sept of Baelor. This is why I’m here actually. To tell you he’s back and Robb Stark is with him.”

She gets up from her seat and moves around her brother’s desk to kneel before him. It’s difficult, after a full day of walking around to move and the act of kneeling is near impossible. It pulls at the scars on her legs, but she ignores the pain and does so anyway. She takes her brother’s hand in hers and holds his gaze. The coldness of his skin reminds her of Aegon’s. Just now, she realizes how fragile he is.

“Jon is your blood, same as Aegon was. Make him true, name him your heir and protect the Seven Kingdoms from another terrible king.”

“It doesn’t matter if I make him true. There will always be people to doubt his legitimacy, especially if there’s a trueborn Targaryen alive. Remember the Blackfyres, it would start another civil war.”

“It would be different,” Dany argues. “You’re the king and Jon is your son, his claim prevails Viserys’ who is only your brother.”

“That may be so, but you know, as well as I do, that people care more about names than they do anything else. And in their eyes, Jon will always be a Snow.”

_You’re a bastard, you’re nothing. You always have been and you always will be nothing._

The echo of her own words comes back to haunt her. Tears burn at the corner of her eyes. She wants to cry at the unfairness of the situation, at the cruelty of life. But her tears are not only tears of grief. They’re angry tears, furious tears. For this is how she feels as she contemplates their situation. She’s angry that Aegon could be taken away from them so quickly, furious that someone like Jon, who’s worth ten Viserys, will always come second in people’s eyes.

“Unless…” Rhaegar starts.

“What?”

“There is one thing that could strengthen Jon’s claim to the throne.” He takes her chin in his hands and forces her to look at him. “And I think we both know what that is.”

Understanding dawns upon her. “A Targaryen wife,” she whispers. “Me.”

xxx

Later, in her bath, her conversation with Rhaegar is all she can think about.

_“I can be no one’s wife. I can’t have children.”_

_“Yes, you can.”_

_“Fine, then no one in their right mind would ever want to make them with me.”_

“Why are you so silent?” Rhaenys asks.

Dany looks up to meet her niece’s dark eyes. She’s sitting next to Talisa, by the tub in which Dany is soaking her legs. They must have been here a while for the water has run cold and the candles’ light is flickering.

“Jon is here,” she says, bringing her knees to her chest and trying to make herself as small as possible.

Something in Rhaenys’ expression changes.

“Jon, is that…?” Talisa starts asking.

“My other brother,” Rhaenys answers. “Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

Dany just shrugs. She opens her mouth to answer her, but no words come out of it. Truth is, she’s a little overwhelmed with everything. Talisa seems to notice.

“Come on, you’ve been in here long enough.”

She takes hold of a thick cotton towel and quickly wraps it around Dany. She notices that Rhaenys, even though it’s not the first time that she has seen her legs, avoids looking at them. Dany can’t fault her for that. They look simply disgusting, the sight of them still repulses her and they’re hers, a part of her broken body.

It’s been five years since the accident and Dany remembers very little of it. She remembers the fire, her father’s maniac laugh and Ser Jaime’s arms around her as they carried her away from the flames.

She was caught in the same fire that killed him, a fire he set himself. She was severely injured and would have died, if not for Talisa and her teacher, Qaithe, an Essosi healer whose wisdom and knowledge went back to before the Doom of Valyria. They were both mandated by Rhaegar, in a desperate attempt at saving her life. And saved her life they had, but not her body which is now marred with deep angry red scars.

Talisa and Rhaenys are the only ones to have ever seen her legs. Talisa is the only one allowed to touch them. And touch them she does as she rubs them with some herbal salve.

“I must see him at once,” Rhaenys says, getting up from her stool. “I’ll be back.”

She leaves and Dany puts on the nightdress Talisa is handing her.

“Thank you, my friend,” she says, once she’s settled in bed.

When she was closer to life than death, Qaithe returned to Essos, but Talisa chose to stay, claiming that she couldn’t bear living in a slave city. Five years later, she is more than just a healer to Dany. She’s her closest friend, her companion, her confidant.

“Will you please tell me what’s troubling you?” Talisa asks, sitting on the bed next to her.

Dany stares at her, at a loss for words. No one knows about her and Jon. Not Rhaegar, not Rhaenys, not Talisa. The only people who know are Viserys because he’s the one who turned them in and Ser Jaime. And they never talk about it.

Jon is her secret. The only love of her life, and her greatest heartbreak too.

Seeing him again is joy. Seeing him again is pain. It’s all the emotions in between and after everything she’s been through, it’s too much for her to take.

She doesn’t realize she has started crying until something wet touches her hand.

Her tears.

She’s cried more in the time that he’s been gone than she has in her whole life. It’s not just her skin that burnt away, but her spine too, her confidence, her inner strength. She feels weak and pathetic now, a frightened little girl.

“Daenerys?”

“I loved him, Talisa,” she eventually says, the words burning her lips as they pass them. “I loved him and I hurt him.”

xxx

Jon walks out of the Sept of Baelor with his heart feeling heavier in his chest than when he walked in. He thought seeing his brother one last time, saying goodbye to him would help him. He was wrong.

Seeing the cold body of his brother only reminded him of his failures, of all the ways he’s hurt him during his short life. And the most terrible part is that they’re all things he can never fix now.

Robb is waiting for him outside, Greywind at his side. His cousin takes one look at him before embracing him. Not so long ago, Jon was the one comforting him after he lost a brother. Things change quickly, but not life. Life is still the same, cold and cruel.

“I’ve met the infamous Daenerys Targaryen,” Robb tells him as they climb down the stairs that lead to the Sept. “She insisted that we stay in the Red Keep.”

Jon stiffens. “Did she now?” He asks, his tone biting. He would have thought that she’d want him as far away from her as possible.

“Aye,” Robb confirms. “I couldn’t refuse…”

Jon clenches his fists. “It doesn’t matter.”

And it really doesn’t.

_She_ doesn’t matter.

Or so he keeps telling himself.

xxx

It feels odd being back in the Red Keep. The place hasn’t changed much, but he has. And somehow, it makes everything feel different to him.

His old rooms are pretty much in the state as when he left. He doesn’t know what to make of that. It’s almost as if his family has been waiting for his return.

_They haven’t_, he tells himself, killing that soft feeling of hope in his chest.

And yet, he and Robb aren’t even halfway through their meal when the door opens to let in Rhaenys.

Jon barely has time to stand up before she jumps into his arms. He holds her to him tightly, his grief making room for a little bliss in his heart.

“I could scarcely believe it when Dany said you were here earlier,” she says after he sets her back on her feet. “I had to see for myself…” she cups his face between her hands. “It’s good to see you, little brother.”

Jon nods. “It’s good to see you too, though I wish the circumstances were different…”

Rhaenys looks down at her feet as the smile on her face fades away quickly. “So do I.”

Robb gets up from his seat and Jon introduces the two of them.

“So, you’re part of the reason Jon stayed away from home so long,” she says. She means it as a jest, but Jon hears the accusation in her tone.

“You haven’t been much home yourself,” he points out.

“Aye, how I regret it now!”

Jon knows that feeling all too well. He sighs, trying to evacuate some of the tension he can feel building up in the room.

“How could we know?” He eventually says.

“Have you seen father yet?”

He shakes his head. There hasn’t been any time yet.

“You should, he’s missed you.”

“Did he tell you so?”

He and his father have exchanged letters over the years, but there’s always been a chasm between them, one that has only grown wider with time and distance.

She shakes her head. “No, but I know I have. Dany too.”

He freezes at her words, exchanges a look with Robb.

“I doubt that,” he says tightly, his fists clenched at his sides.

Rhaenys recoils, seemingly taken aback by the fierceness of his reply. She pinches her lips, something she always does when there’s something she wants to say, but knows she can’t.

“Go see father,” she tells him before leaving.

xxx

Jon finds his father in his bedchamber. He’s never been inside the king’s apartments, for when he was a child, his grandfather Aerys hated him and wanted nothing to do with him.

His father is a frail silhouette lying in bed when he walks in. And as he comes closer, he realizes the king is nothing but an old man, with white hair and purple eyes which have lost their light.

Pity seizes Jon’s heart. He reckons he would fare no better if he’d just lost his son and heir. For the first time in his life, he’s relieved he’ll never have children of his own.

_I’ll never know the pain of losing them_, he rejoices.

_And you’ll never the joy of having them_, another voice says and for some reasons, it’s louder than the first one.

“Is that you again, Dany?”

The room is plunged in darkness, except for the silver light of the moon. Jon steps into it.

“No, father, it’s only me. Jon Snow.”

“Jon?” His father’s voice seems a little stronger. Jon comes closer so that he can see it’s really him.

“Yes, father. Jon.”

A small smile lights his mourning features. Jon’s heart kicks in his chest.

“Dany said that you were here.” He reaches for him and touches his cheek with the back of his hand. Jon doesn’t dare breathe until his father’s hand falls limply on the bed again.

“I’m sorry, father,” he eventually says, thought he doesn’t quite know what he’s apologizing for. Aegon? His absence? “I’m sorry for your loss,” he decides. His absence is not his fault.

It’s all _hers_.

“It’s all I’ve known, all my life,” Rhaegar says. “Loss. I’ve watched so many of my loved ones die or suffer and each time, I couldn’t protect them. My mother, your mother, Elia, Dany, Aegon…”

Jon frowns. “Daenerys is alive and well, father. You haven’t lost her.”

“Aye, but at what cost?” He closes his eyes and Jon has to fight the need to pry. It doesn’t matter to him what’s happened to her in the time that he was gone. She doesn’t matter.

“Perhaps you and Rhaenys were right to leave. It seems all there is for our family is death in this city.”

Jon wants to argue with him, but nothing comes to his mind. The Gods haven’t been too kind to house Targaryen in recent years, there’s no denying it.

“You still have your brother and sister, father. You still have your daughter. You haven’t lost everything.”

“And you too?” He asks. “I haven’t lost you to the Starks, have I?”

Jon is at a loss for words. He feels more like a wolf than a dragon now, but how can he tell his father that without breaking his heart further?

“It’s alright, Jon, you can say it. You were always your mother’s son after all. Perhaps that’s why I was distant when you were a child… it hurt to look at you because all I saw was my Lyanna. I’m sorry, that wasn’t fair to you.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, father,” Jon assures him vehemently. “You have been good to me, providing me with food and shelter. You’ve given me more than I could have ever hoped for. I could never thank you enough for everything you did for me.”

“I thought you might have been crossed with me, I thought that was why you weren’t coming home.”

“Other things kept me away, but if you want me to stay, father, I’ll stay,” he vows.

He is a wolf now and no princess will keep him away from his family.

Not anymore.

xxx

In spite of his exhaustion, sleep eludes Jon. He tosses and turns until he can’t take it anymore. He quickly gets dressed and walks out of his bedchamber, Ghost following suit. He and Robb only travelled with their direwolves for protection, much to Lady Stark’s dismay. It was for the best really, for they rode hard and reached King’s Landing in record time. Taking more people with them would have only slowed them down.

His feet seem to have a volition of their own as he starts walking around. They take him to the stables. He knows just then where he must go. He tries not to think about it too much. He just gets on his horse and rides into the night, the moon and Ghost his sole companions.

xxx

He finds her in the clearing.

Their clearing.

He’s tried to forget her during the five years that he’s been gone. He’s been with many women, none of them looking even remotely like her. He’s always ended up seeing silver hair and lilac eyes anyway.

When he couldn’t forget her, he tried to turn his feelings to hatred.

He’s spent hours picturing her with a thousand faceless lovers, letting them have her in all the ways men can have women and then some more. He’s imagined her laughing at his expense, looking rather pleased with herself for what she did to him. He’s forced himself to think the worst of her.

To no avail.

He still loves her as much as he did when they were children, when they first kissed in that very clearing where they find themselves now. He hates himself for loving her, gods, he really do, but he just doesn’t know how not to. He only knows two things as far as she’s concerned: she has never loved him and he will always love her.

His heart throbs in his chest as he looks at her. Her back is to him. She’s sitting on the ground, her horse lazily grazing next to her. She doesn’t seem to have noticed his presence, lost as she is in her thoughts.

She looks so small, with her back bowed and her legs to her chest, he feels a wave of protection rise inside him. He mercilessly squelches the feeling before it can take roots inside him. He’s a fool for her, he knows, but she’ll never know how much. She’ll never know he still loves her, still cares about her. He can’t help how he feels, but he can control his actions. She made a fool out of him once, she will not get to do so twice.

He loves her, yes, but she doesn’t have to matter to him.

“Are you going to stand here in silence forever or are you going to say something?”

So, she was aware of his presence after all.

“I don’t have anything to say to you.”

She gets on her feet and finally turns around to meet his gaze. She’s even more beautiful than she was five years ago. Her cheeks are healthy and pink, her lips red and kissable…

He clenches his fists and forces thoughts of her mouth out of his mind.

“Then what are you doing here?”

“What are _you_ doing here? These woods are not safe for a princess such as yourself,” he says nonchalantly. Ghost chooses this moment to walk out from where he has been hiding behind the trees. In her defense, Daenerys doesn’t even blink when she sees his direwolf and he must be at least twice her size.

“Now, come on, Jon. Don’t try and scare me.” She pauses and for a second, he thinks he sees something akin to vulnerability in his eyes. It’s gone in a second though.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she admits. “Things have been… complicated.”

“I can only imagine.”

“Have you seen your father?”

He nods. “He’s asked me to stay, just so you know.”

She flinches at the feral bite of his tone. “You think I want you to leave?”

She sounds genuinely surprised but he doesn’t believe it. She’s the best liar he knows after all.

“I was under the impression that you didn’t want me around anymore.”

“That was a long time ago. I’m grateful for your presence. We could use some help here.”

He crosses his arms over his chest and raises his chin in defiance. “We?”

“Your father and I,” she clarifies.

“What about Viserys?”

She pinches her lips tightly and Jon has to focus on her eyes to stop more memories of heated kisses to flood his senses.

“He cannot be trusted, you know how he is.”

He snorts. “As a matter of fact I don’t. Thanks to you, I don’t know anyone anymore here.”

Hurt flashes through her eyes. She quickly buries it away. She raises her chin in defiance and takes a step in his direction, not caring one bit about the giant wolf next to him. He hates that it makes him love her more.

“Jon, for the sake of our family, we must set aside our differences.”

“And pray tell, why should I care about our family when you made it abundantly clear that I’m no Targaryen?”

She takes another step in his direction and he catch a whiff of her scent. It’s different from what he remembers, new and intriguing. She now smells of foreign herbs and oils. Only the smell of lemon lingers in the air around her.

“You’re a Knight of the Seven Kingdoms, aren’t you? Sworn to protect this country and its people? So, if you don’t do this for your family, then do it for the people.”

She moves past him with her head held high. He can’t believe he forgot how prideful she is. He has his own pride, but he must set it aside for there is one thing he needs to ask, one thing he needs to know…

“Why did you and Aegon never marry?”

He feels vulnerable as he asks the question. He’s afraid she’ll see right past his cold and detached demeanor, see right past his aggressive tone and realize that he’s still very much in love with her.

She turns slowly to face him once more. She looks small again, her pride and defiance gone in a second. Daenerys was never small. She was petite in size, but never in presence. He remembers all too well how she could light up a whole room with a smile, or captivate many with the sound of her laughter. The girl standing in front of him looks like she’d rather disappear than be here and talk to him.

“Why do you think that is?” She asks, her voice barely louder than a whisper, her hands holding her arms close to her stomach.

“I don’t know… maybe having a husband would have made it complicated for you to be with your lovers.”

He knows the moment his words find their target. She takes a step back as if she’s been slapped, a hand coming up to her chest.

“I beg your pardon?” Her tone has shifted and he knows that voice. It’s the one that comes just before the storm. Still, Jon is determined to brave it. He will not let her intimidate him again. She may be a Stormborn, but he’s survived far more terrible storms during the winter.

“Isn’t that what you were planning to do five years ago? How did you put it again “it’s time I move to men of my station”?”

“That’s rich coming from the man known for whoring his way through Westeros. You’re not so noble for a knight, Jon.”

“Are you jealous?”

She rolls her eyes at him and gets on her horse. He can’t help but notice she doesn’t hold herself as she used to. Her position is stiff and she winces as though she’s in pain when she settles herself on the saddle.

“You wish,” she replies angrily.

“Aye, I do,” he admits and he secretly wishes she’d show some bloody human emotions for once.

“Well, maybe you are a wicked bastard after all.”

She kicks her horse and Jon watches her leave, her hair flying behind her. He lets out a frustrated cry and kicks a nearby tree.

xxx

His sister is waiting for him in his rooms when he gets back to them. She is sitting on a chair and she is nursing a glass of what he assumes is a most excellent Dornish red wine.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she tells him.

It seems to be the theme of the night.

“Neither could I,” he says, taking a seat in front of her. She pours him a generous glass of wine. “It’s no northern ale, but it’ll do,” he takes a sip, savoring the way the alcohol burns his throat.

“What have they done to you in the North?” She teases.

“Only good things, I swear.”

“Really?” She points at the scar on the side of his head.

“Don’t do that, Rhaenys. They’ve been good to me all these years.”

“I know… I suppose, I’m just jealous they got to spend so much time with you.” She takes a sip of her wine. “Where do you come from at this hour of the night?”

“I went out to clear my mind, had a fight with Daenerys instead.”

“A fight?” Rhaenys frowns. “What about?”

He shrugs.

“Listen, Jon, it’s my understanding that the two of you did not part in good terms.”

He freezes. What does Rhaenys know? Was she a part of Daenerys’ ploy? Have the two of them been playing him all this time?

“What has she told you?” He asks his heart in his throat.

“She hasn’t told me anything, I just figured it out on my own. But listen, Dany has been through a lot. It’s best if you leave the past in the past.”

“We’ve all been through shit, Rhaenys. Daenerys seems to be doing just fine.”

Once more, Rhaenys pinches her lips. But whatever it is that’s on her mind can’t be that important for she doesn’t share it with him.

They move the conversation toward much safer waters and start talking about Aegon instead. They spend the rest of the night reminiscing their best memories with him. They drink in his honor and before the sun rises, small smiles have lighted their tear-laden faces.

xxx

Jon was too young to remember the funerals of Elia Martell, his father’s wife. And later, he missed his grandfather’s funerals, meaning his brother’s funerals are his first royal funerals. He foolishly hopes they’ll be his last. One look at his father tells him his next royal funerals might not be so far away. He’s quick to force the gloomy thought out of his head.

His father insists he sits with the rest of his family, even though he’s a bastard and should stay in the back. No one objects, not even Viserys who doesn’t dare speak the things Jon can see burning in his eyes.

The ceremony is quiet solemn. Rhaenys cries through it all. Their father lights Aegon’s pyre, after dropping one last kiss on his forehead. The fire is blazing, glorious. Jon feels Daenerys significantly tense where she is standing next to him. When he risks a glance her way, he sees that she’s white as a sheet. Before he can do anything, even though he doesn’t know what it is he must do, Rhaenys clasps her hands in hers.

He tears his eyes away from them, puzzled by what he’s just witnessed. He looks back at the fire and bids his brother one final goodbye.

xxx

It’s already late into the night when his father summons him. He’s staring through the window and doesn’t turn around to greet his son when he comes in.

“You wanted to speak with me, father,” he says, standing awkwardly on the threshold.

“On my desk,” is all he says.

Jon notices a piece of parchment prominently displayed. He takes hold of it and starts reading it.

“_I, Rhaegar Targaryen, the first of my name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, name my son Jon…_”

His visions blurs and his head starts spinning. He drops the parchment back on the desk.

“What is the meaning of this, father?”

“I want to make you true, Jon. I want to make you my heir.”

“You already have an heir,” he protests. “Viserys.”

“No, I can’t name him.”

His tone is final. Jon’s mind is scrambling for something else to say.

“Name Rhaenys or Daenerys then! They’re trueborn Targaryens too.”

“Rhaenys?” His father gives him a look. Jon winces. He knows it’s a terrible idea too. “As for Daenerys, she was the one who suggested I make you my heir.”

Jon’s heart stops in his chest. He stops breathing too.

He just stares at his father in utter disbelief.

“But—but I’m a bastard,” he protests.

“And since when does she care about such things? I reckon the two of you were like peas in a pod as children.”

Jon shuts his eyes. This can’t be happening to him. It just can’t.

How many times has he dreamt as a child that his father would ask the king to make him true? How many nights has he spent dreaming of the Targaryen name?

He takes them all back now for he doesn’t want to gain anything from his brother’s death. It’s too high a price to pay.

“Why can’t it be Viserys?”

“Viserys is much like my father. Surely, you remember how cruel he could be.”

Jon nods. Once, Aerys locked him in a dark closet for hours on end, with no water and food, not even a candle. It was Daenerys who’d found him, saved him from the lonely darkness.

“I have done my best to hide his condition from the kingdom, to fix all the things his madness broke, but… it seems I didn’t watch my brother carefully enough. His mind is troubled, poisoned by my father’s ideas. He is yet another person I have failed to protect.”

“You’re too hard on yourself, father.”

Rhaegar smiles, but it’s sad and full of tragedy.

“You are my blood, Jon, my son. I know everything you’ve accomplished during the long winter. You’ll make a good king.”

“Is that really what you want, father? For me to be king?” The word burns his lips when he says it. He can scarcely believe he is saying it at all. “You just admitted to this being Daenerys’ idea.”

“It was her idea because she was the first to know that you were back. I thought I’d lost you to the Starks and the wild beauty of the North.”

Jon ponders his words. “There are people who might question my loyalty to house Targaryen,” he eventually says.

“I know. But I’d rather have Lyanna Stark’s son on the throne after me than my father’s.”

“And if they don’t question my loyalty, they’ll question my legitimacy.”

His father blinks, having probably not expected such political finesse from him. “I’m impressed, Jon. We might make a politician out of you after all.”

He doesn’t want to become a politician. He doesn’t want the throne, doesn’t want to be king. He feels like he’s stealing Aegon’s life. He feels every bit the wicked bastard people claim he is.

But if Viserys really is like his father then… what other choice is there?

_If you don’t do this for your family, then do it for the people._

He hears Daenerys’ voice in his head, loud and clear.

_Well-played, Dany, well-played,_ he thinks.

xxx

Rhaegar names Jon his heir two weeks after Aegon’s funerals. He’s been gone from the world for over a month. They’re still in mourning, but they must move on.

He announces it in the Great Hall, in front of all his courtiers. But first, he makes him true and gives him the Targaryen name. In a matter of minutes, he is no longer Ser Jon Snow, the Knight of the Winter Rose, but Jon Targaryen, Crown Prince and heir to the throne.

Daenerys’ heart swells with pride when Rhaegar finishes saying the words. She’s the first to clap her hands and also the last.

That is until, a shiver runs down her spine. She looks behind her and meets Viserys’ eyes. The look on his face is ominous. His lips are twisted in a fixed grin that promises violence.

He reminds her of her father and that thought alone is enough to send her mind reeling. Her smile disappears and Talisa next to her starts throwing her worried looks.

“Are you alright?” She asks, her voice laden with concern.

“Just a little overwhelmed is all.”

Talisa nods, before bringing her attention back to the ceremony taking place before them.

“Look at them,” she points at a group of ladies. “He’s barely been crowned and they’re already planning their attack.”

Daenerys looks at the ladies. The eager looks on their faces make her blood boil in her veins. She swallows back the burning feeling in her chest. She lost all rights to Jon’s heart and body a long time ago.

“At least, your Jon is a skilled warrior,” Talisa comments.

“Talisa!” Daenerys protests, looking around to make sure no one’s heard her. “He’s not mine.”

“Then why is he looking at you like that?”

Daenerys brings her attention back to Jon. He is indeed looking in her direction, in a way that is entirely different from the cold and angry one she’s grown used to seeing since he returned to King’s Landing. No, he’s looking at her with heated eyes that promise violence. But unlike with Viserys, she has a feeling the outcome of this fight will be much pleasant.

xxx

Ser Jaime Lannister is exactly right where Barristan Selmy said he would be, that is in the armory. He’s studying something she cannot see from the door and he doesn’t notice her presence, as absorbed in his task as he is. She clears her throat to make her presence known.

“Good evening, Your Grace,” he greets her.

His tone is serious, but there’s no missing the affection hidden inside it. She replies in kind.

“Good evening, Ser. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you, so I decided to come and see what’s kept you away from me.”

If anyone were to ask Daenerys, she’d tell them Jaime Lannister is so much more than a Kingsguard, so much more than a knight. She’d tell them he is _her_ good knight, _her_ lion, _her_ friend. His presence at her side has been a balm to her soul and whenever too much time passes without them talking, or just sitting together in silence, she misses him. It is an unconventional bond, she knows, but then again, they are unconventional people.

She walks up to the table he’s been working at and sees what he’s been studying. Pieces of armor, a saddle…

“Are those…?” She starts asking, her throat tightening before she can finish her question.

He nods.

She picks up a piece of armor, her hand trembling as she holds it to her face. “What are you doing with these? They should be destroyed for they did not protect Aegon, the very thing they were built to do.” She throws the piece back on the table.

“Aegon was a great rider,” Jaime tells her.

“And yet, he fell from his horse.”

Jaime shakes his head. “Aegon was a great rider. He could command a horse better than most knights. And it wasn’t his first joust. He knew what to expect, knew what to do.”

“What’s your point, Ser?”

“I just find it odd that such a skilled rider would fall to his death so tragically is all.”

Horror dawns upon Dany as she understands what he’s implying. “You don’t think that…”

That’s exactly what he thinks. And he shows her where the saddle has been cut, so that it would fall off the horse and take Aegon down.

“Who could do such a thing?”

“He was to marry Margaery Tyrell. Perhaps a scorned woman wanted to get her revenge.”

Dany shakes her head. “I’m pretty sure Aegon didn’t scorn any ladies. Besides, it doesn’t make sense. If one wants to be queen, she better kill the concurrence, not the prince. No. Whoever killed Aegon was someone with something to gain from it…” her voice trails down.

Viserys.

“That bastard,” she breathes out.

“What? You think Jon…?” Ser Jaime looks at her in confusion.

“Quick, Ser Jaime, hide these!” She points at the pieces of armor and saddle. “And don’t tell anyone else about this.”

“Where are you going?”

She doesn’t reply for she’s already far away.

xxx

Growing up, Dany wasn’t always a sweet child, for she was opinionated and with a will of steel. She was a Stormborn, not just in name, but in truth as well. And she can feel a storm growing inside her as her conversation with Ser Jaime keeps echoing in her mind. Like thunder, her heart growls in her chest, demanding justice. Her blood boils in her veins, as it very often does when she’s feeling something intense, and she clenches her fists. She’s like a hurricane waiting to strike.

Not even when Viserys told her father about her and Jon was she this angry. What she’s feeling at the moment is a completely different kind of anger, if it can even be called that. She’s furious. She’s mad.

And the Gods must be on her side that day because the very object of her rage comes into view. She doesn’t think before she acts, she just does. She runs up to her brother and pushes him against the wall. She’s surprised by her own strength, because Viserys slams his head against the cold stones hard enough to wince.

“You miserable cockroach!” She seethes, punching his chest. She feels his heart kick under her fists and she is surprised because all evidence pointed out to the fact that he did not possess a heart.

“What’s gotten into you?” He grabs her hands and holds them tightly enough for it to hurt. The pain barely registers with her.

“I know what you did,” she whispers, in vain, they’re all alone.

To his credit, Viserys doesn’t even bat an eye at her accusation. “And what have I done exactly?”

“All these years, you hated Jon for being a bastard but it wasn’t just that, was it? You hated him because he had Northern blood and you hated Rhaenys and Aegon too, because even though they were born true, they weren’t true Targaryens in your eyes.”

He doesn’t reply to that so she goes on.

“I remember how you called me and Rhaegar traitors to our blood for loving Jon and Lyanna Stark… but tell me, if we are traitors to our blood, then what are you? And for how long have you been planning this? Is that why Tywin Lannister was urging Rhaegar to name an heir? You asked him to plead your case while our brother was at his weakest, was most easily influenced?” She shakes her head in disgust. “Yes, that sounds just like you. Hiding behind smarter men, letting them handle things for you.”

To her surprise, Viserys starts laughing. It sounds too much like their father’s life. A shiver runs down her spine and she struggles to free herself from his hold. Until he abruptly stops laughing. Then, he tightens his grip on her, twists them and slams her against the wall.

“You’re one to talk when it was the sweet words you whispered to our brother that made your bastard heir. How pleased with yourself you must be, you’ve finally achieved your greater purpose and disgraced our great name by giving it to a wolf.”

“He deserves that name more than you do, _kinslayer_.” She spits the last word and he presses her further into the wall. She lets out a cry of pain.

“That’s a very dangerous accusation to proclaim. Where is your proof?”

“You were the one with the most to gain from Aegon’s death.”

“Are you sure about that? Because from where I’m standing, it seems that your bastard is the one with a name and title.”

His words stroke the fire burning inside her. Her fury grows even stronger. “How dare you? Jon was in Winterfell when it happened!”

“And I was on Dragonstone,” Viserys counters. “Yet, you called me _kinslayer_.”

“I know what you did,” she hisses.

“Careful, dear sister, you’re playing a dangerous game.”

“So are you.”

“Aye, but I’m a far better player than you or your bastard. Now, let me tell you one thing, I will not forget any of this, just like I didn’t forget how you betrayed your own blood by dancing with a wolf.”

Dany stops breathing. His tone is low, threatening. He scares her more than her father because there’s no folly in his mind. He’s just a vile, hateful man.

“But fear not, dear sister,” he caresses the side of her face and his fingers leave a trail of fire in their path. It’s not a pleasant sensation. “I’ll get a son or two out of you first. You’re a traitor, but your body may still be of use.”

Dany is too stunned to say anything. She just stares in horror at her brother, until someone interrupts them.

“Is everything alright?”

Viserys immediately lets go of her. She inhales deeply as soon as he’s taken a few steps away from her.

“Yes, my lord,” he assures Robb Stark, looking and sounding completely unaffected. “My sister and I were just having a conversation.”

“I don’t know about that, Your Grace. I have two sisters and I have never spoken to either of them in this manner.”

“Then you have been blessed with great sisters.”

With that he turns around and walks away. Daenerys almost collapses in relief, but Lord Stark is at her side in a second. He takes a hold of her arms, supporting most of her weight. He then gently rubs her skin where Viserys held her, to help her blood return to her hands and fingers.

“I must apologize, my lord,” she tells him, her voice heavy with tears and fear. “I always seem to be crying around you.”

“That’s alright,” he takes a piece of fabric from the purse around his waist and hands it to her. She gratefully takes it with trembling hands and dries her eyes with it.

“How come you carry a tissue around, my lord?”

“One never knows when a lady might be in need of it,” he says as he starts rubbing her forearms again.

Dany meets his blue eyes and stares at him in wonder. “You’re unlike any lords I’ve met,” she admits.

He bows his head, a small smile stretching his lips. “And you’re not at all what I imagined, so that makes us even.” She smiles in return and he seems pleased with that for a second. Then, his expression becomes serious again. “Will you be alright?”

He has enough sense and grace to not mention the way she’s still shaking against the wall. She opens her mouth to reply when someone interrupts them.

“What’s happening here?”

It’s Jon and his direwolf, Ghost. He looks from his cousin to her, an undecipherable look on his face. The sight of him brings fresh tears to her eyes. She doesn’t think afterward, she acts on pure instinct. She moves away from Robb and right into his arms.

“Oh Jon, I’m so sorry,” she says, her voice muffled against his shoulders.

It takes him all but a second before he holds her back.

In his arms, she finally stops shaking.

xxx

They walk her back to her rooms. Talisa is waiting for her inside, her bath drawn in a copper tub hidden behind a screen. She jumps on her feet when she sees Dany, supported by both Robb and Jon, Ghost walking at their sides.

“What’s happened?” She asks in concern.

“She’s had quite a shock,” Robb answers.

Dany doesn’t want to leave the support of Jon’s arms, but she knows she must. She grabs her friend’s hands and holds onto them.

“Do you need anything?” She brings one of her hands up to her forehead. Dany shakes her head, and pushes the querying hand away.

“Only to speak.” Her eyes lock with Jon’s. There is no concern for her in them, only confusion. “Do you trust him?” She points at Robb.

“Do you trust her?” He points at Talisa.

“With my life,” she replies in a beat, squeezing the hand that she’s still holding.

“I do too.”

Robb Stark, who doesn’t seem like a patient man, full of youth’s ardor as he is, rolls his eyes at them. “Good, now that we all trust each other, can you tell us what happened? Why was your brother hurting you?”

“He what?” Talisa’s tone is alarmed.

“He didn’t hurt me,” Dany quickly reassures her. “He just…”

“Manhandled you alright,” Robb repeats. Dany meets his eyes, clearly annoyed with him and is taken aback by the fierceness she sees in his blue gaze. She is moved by it even though she doesn’t understand where such a protective feeling comes from.

“He killed Aegon.”

Talisa immediately tenses up next to her. Robb’s eyes widen in bewilderment. Jon stumbles back, as if she’s slapped him. And she might as well have, with the news she’s just dropped on them. She tells them all about Ser Jaime’s discoveries and her suspicions.

“Hold on a second,” Talisa interrupts her, “you suspected him of murder and you confronted him? Are you an idiot?”

Dany glares at her. Talisa is the only person in the world who can speak to her in this way. Well, and Ser Jaime too.

“I was furious, he was here… I wasn’t thinking.”

“Must be a family trait,” Robb points out, earning him questioning glances from everyone in the room. “Don’t give me that look, Jon, as I reckon, you do idiotic things all the time.”

“I don’t!”

“Really? Because I seem to remember it was you, not me, who charged at a bear armed with only a bloody torch!”

Dany’s eyes slide from Robb to Jon. She arches a disapproving eyebrow. “You charged at a bear?”

“With only a torch?” Talisa adds.

“And it wasn’t even burning,” Robb adds.

“It was only a small bear!” Jon defends himself. “And Ghost was there.”

“A small bear that almost ripped off your arm!” Robb sighs in exasperation as if to say “see what I have to put up with”. Talisa seems to share the sentiment.

“Targaryens…” she sighs shaking her head.

“Alright, perhaps the two of you can bond over your experiences with Targaryens later. We have a much more important matter to discuss.”

“Are you sure it was Viserys who killed Aegon?” Jon asks. His voice is laced with disbelief. Dany doesn’t blame him, as he so rightly pointed out, he doesn’t know Viserys anymore.

“Well, I sure as hell didn’t. And neither did you or Rhaenys.”

He sits down on a nearby chair, as if it’s too much for him to take. He looks so tired in this moment, it tugs at Dany’s heart. His life has changed so much in the last few days and he’s taken it all in strides… but there’s no denying the effect it’s had on him. The exhaustion in his eyes, etched in his features, says it all.

“I’m sorry, Jon,” she says. “I’m afraid your life is now in grave danger.”

“I can take care of myself,” he mumbles. “I’m more worried about what we’re going to do now.”

“There’s only one thing we can do. Thwart Viserys, preferably before he kills you.” She starts pacing. “He was on Dragonstone during the tourney. We all thought it was odd, but I understand now he was only covering himself.”

A long silence follows her declaration.

“We could just go to my father and tell him everything.”

Dany shakes her head. “Not without concrete proof. Viserys would only twist things around and accuse you. That’s what he did when I confronted him.”

“Aye, thank you for that!” His biting tone finds it target and nips her heart.

“Wait,” Robb interrupts them, “if he was on Dragonstone, it means he didn’t sabotage Aegon’s saddle himself. He must have had at least an accomplice.”

“I suspect he’s plotting with Tywin Lannister. What he has to gain from it, I don’t know but...”

“Perhaps Viserys promised to marry his granddaughter, Myrcella Baratheon,” Talisa suggests.

Dany shakes her head. “My brother only wants a Targaryen wife.”

The tension goes up a notch in the room.

“It doesn’t matter what Viserys has promised Tywin Lannister,” Jon eventually says. “If there’s a plot meant to take us down, we need to unveil it. Fast.”

Dany holds back a smile upon hearing the word “us” in his mouth. It seems as though the wolf his reclaiming his wings. Her heart rejoices at the thought.

“I know this is a lot to ask of you,” he adds, turning to look at his cousin, “but I will need your help.”

His words are loaded with unsaid things. He’s not just asking for Robb’s help, he’s also asking for his support in case things go south.

“You need not ask. I’m with you until the end.”

The two men clasp their arms together.

“We’ll help too,” Dany says after they’ve let go of each other.

“No,” Jon replies, his tone final and uncompromising. “You’ve already painted a target on your back. There is no need to broaden it.”

“Viserys will not hurt me,” she counters.

“No, he’ll just manhandle you,” Robb points at her arms. Small bruises with the shape of Viserys’ fingers have formed on her white skin. Suddenly feeling vulnerable and naked, she crosses them behind her back.

“I’ll ask Ser Jaime to help you then. He’s the one who realized Aegon’s death was no accident.”

Jon shakes his head. “We can’t trust him. If his father is truly involved in all this…”

“Ser Jaime is loyal to me,” Dany cuts him off. This time, it’s her tone that is final and uncompromising.

“I thought a Knight of the Kingsguard was loyal to the king.”

“The king _and _his family.”

Jon rolls his eyes, his annoyance clear. Dany holds his gaze and waits for him to look away. He never does.

“Retrieve Aegon’s armor and saddle from him,” he eventually says. “Do not tell him why though, I insist, Daenerys. We need to be smart about this or we’ll lose our lives.”

“It’s not just about us. It’s about Aegon. He deserves justice.”

“And justice will be served,” he promises. “We’ll make Viserys pay.”

xxx

Dany is surprised when there is a knock on her door. Talisa has retired for the night and so have the servants. Who could possibly visit her at such a late hour?

Another knock forces her out of bed.

“I’m coming!”

Quickly, she grabs a pair of riding leathers and pulls them on under her nightgown. She opens the door to her rooms and is surprised to find Jon waiting for her on the other side. He is, for once, without his direwolf. It’s a relief really, for she finds the beast quite intimidating, especially when he keeps staring at her with his burning red eyes.

“Is that what you’re wearing to bed?” He asks after eyeing her from head to toe in a way that leaves her feeling hot all over.

“Have you come here to criticize my choice of clothing?” She replies sharply.

He shakes his head. “I would have a word. Alone,” he quickly adds.

Dany glances at the guards at her door. She knows she’ll wake the object of gossips, but allows him inside anyway.

“May I offer you something to drink?”

He politely declines.

“Suit yourself,” she pours herself a glass of wine.

She’ll need it if she’s going to deal with him. In the time that he’s been back, she can count on one hand the number of times they’ve found themselves alone together. He’s kept away from her as much as possible and the few times he’s spoken to her, his tone was cold and detached. There’s no doubt he still hates her for what she did to him.

It makes her hate him a little, that he had so little faith in her and her love that he would actually believe all the horrors she told him.

The only time he looked at her with something that isn’t indifference is when he was made a Targaryen in front of all the nobles of King’s Landing. But nothing came of that.

“It’s been an odd day, hasn’t it?”

“It tends to be when one learns what we did,” she agrees. “Is that why you’re here?”

“As a matter of fact, it is. There is something I need to ask you.”

She sets her glass on a nearby table, surprise by the seriousness of his tone. “Ask away.”

“Is you asking Rhaegar to make me true another ploy to help Viserys eliminate all of Rhaegar’s potential heirs so that the field is clear for him to become king?”

She misunderstands him at first. Surely, he’s not suggesting that she would… but then she sees the grave look on his face and she knows he is.

“Do you really think so little of me, Jon?”

Her voice is low and resigned.

“You played me once before,” is all he says and it’s enough to send her mind reeling.

“Don’t you think people would be a little suspicious if both of Rhaegar’s sons died in tragic accidents?”

“People will believe what they want to, I’m a prime example of that.”

It’s another dig at her. She tries not to take the bait. She fails.

“And what do you want to believe when it comes to me?” She asks him and she hates herself for how her voice wavers. Once upon a time, she would have been able to conceal her feelings. No more. “We need to trust each other for this to work, Jon.”

“Give me a reason to trust you then,” he says, his frustration evident.

She almost tells him right here and then. She almost tells him the truth, about her father and the lies he made her say. The fear of having to tell him the rest, the fear of him knowing about her scars holds her back.

“I warned you about Viserys. I don’t know what else I can do!”

“You could marry me, help me strengthen my claim.”

Her eyes widen in surprise, surely she hasn’t heard him correctly… “You just accused me of plotting against you and now you want me to marry you?” She asks, a dangerous edge to her voice. “Your cousin is right, you _are _an idiot. Being your wife would make it so much easier to kill you.”

“I’m not that easily killed, Daenerys.”

“And I’m not that easily manipulated.” She inhales deeply, forces her anger down her throat. “I’m well-aware having a Targaryen wife would help your claim, but it can’t be me. I can’t be your wife.”

A flash of hurt crosses his eyes. It’s gone in a second and she thinks she’s imagined it. What she isn’t imagining though is his anger.

“So what? I’m good enough to be the king but not your husband? I’m good enough for the people of Westeros, but not good enough for you? I will always be a bastard in your eyes, won’t I?”

“That is not what I said!”

“You literally just said “I can’t be your wife”.”

“Yes!” She bursts out, knocking her glass of wine off the table. It crashes on the floor with a shattering sound. “I can’t be your wife, just like I couldn’t be Aegon’s, just like I can’t be Viserys’ or anyone else’s for that matter!”

He’s so surprised by her outburst, he has to take a step back. She can feel tears burn at the corner of her eyes. She turns around so that he will not see her cry. When he speaks again, his tone is far gentler than it’s been since he returned.

“Daenerys, I—”

“Please, leave, Jon.”

He’s silent as a shadow when he leaves. She collapses to the floor as soon as he closes the door behind him and lets out the sobs she’s been holding back.

xxx

He hears her crying through the door. He leans against it heavily and listens for a second, shutting his eyes and clenching his fists as he does so. It takes him all of his strength to not just walk right back in and demand answers.

Demand answers and comfort her, for he cannot bear the sight of her crying. It nearly undid him earlier, when he saw her crying, holding onto Robb for dear life. And then the moment he was here, she jumped in his arms. With no hesitation, she trusted him to hold her and protect her.

He doesn’t know what to make of that.

He doesn’t know what to make of her.

He makes his way back to his rooms and finds Robb waiting for him.

“Where do you come from?” His cousin asks suspiciously.

“Daenerys’ rooms.”

He makes a non-committal noise. “Unsurprising.”

Jon swats him behind the head. “Not for that, you idiot. I wanted to speak with her.”

“What about?”

Jon quickly recounts his frustrating conversation with Daenerys. The more he speaks, the more disapproving the look in Robb’s eyes gets.

“Alright, let me try and see if I understand you correctly. First, you accused her of conspiring against you, then you proposed to her.”

“Aye, I did.”

“You really don’t know the first thing about women, do you?”

“Can you blame me for not trusting her?”

Robb gives him a look, the one that says he’s getting tired of his horseshit. “Oh spare me! You know you do.”

He’s got him there for he does trust Daenerys. It’s nothing rational, nothing he can explain, like most of his feelings for her.

“Now, remember when we talked about you being an idiot? Well, you were one again. Twice you’ve been told she’s been through a lot and yet you still went and proposed marriage to her without even knowing why she didn’t marry the man she was betrothed to in the first place.”

“It doesn’t matter. She doesn’t matter.”

Robb rolls his eyes at him. “She doesn’t matter so much that you went all the way and proposed marriage to her.”

“I didn’t do it for her!” Jon protests, but his voice is weak.

“Will you stop being a stubborn idiot?” Jon knows where he’s heading at. He doesn’t want to hear it. “I know it would be better for your claim if you married her, but you and I both know you did it because you’re still in love with her.”

Jon’s shoulders fall a little. He sits in a chair in front of Robb, his strength having suddenly abandoned him.

“I really am an idiot, am I not?” He wonders out loud. “For loving her still.”

Robb shrugs and leans back in his chair. “I don’t know about that. There seems to be a lot to love about her.”

Jon raises a questioning eyebrow. He’d expected Robb to call him an idiot once more. He hadn’t expected for his cousin to be charmed by Daenerys.

“When did you switch sides?”

Robb rolls his eyes at him. “I did not switch sides, cousin, but I’ll admit there is something about your princess…”

“She’s not _my _princess,” Jon corrects him.

Robb gives him the look that says he sees right through him and goes on. “Your princess is…” his voice trails down as he looks for the right words. Jon waits, his muscles coiled. “She reminds me of a winter leaf, you know? So white and so perfect, yet so fragile.”

Daenerys was never fragile, but somehow Jon understands his meaning. There’s something about her now, a delicateness that wasn’t here before.

“You need to be careful, Jon,” Robb goes on. “Viserys is trying to destabilize this monarchy and may very well try to kill you. As lovely as your princess is, I don’t want to lose you because you’re too distracted by a woman.”

“You won’t,” Jon assures him. “You won’t. I promise.”

xxx

Robb and Jon start investigating Aegon’s death the very next day.

They start interrogating people, the man who made Aegon’s saddle, the guards that stood by his tent during the tourney. They need to know who sabotaged Aegon’s equipment.

They also try to keep an eye on Viserys, but it’s not easy especially because Jon is always so busy. He received the same military training as Aegon while growing up, but he was never taught about all the other things a king needs to know in order to rule. He spends most of his days following him around, learning as much as he can from him. It’s a little overwhelming, especially when he is still not used to his new title and status, still feels unworthy and undeserving of them. It’s odd but he feels even more illegitimate now that he bears the Targaryen name than when he didn’t.

His father hasn’t recovered from the loss of Aegon. Not that one ever recovers from the loss of a child that is, but Rhaegar really is in a pretty bad shape. He seems to be aware of it and that makes him even more desperate to teach Jon everything he knows. It’s as though he can feel his end nearing. In these moments, Jon is glad they haven’t told him of their suspicions. His father, he’s realized, seems to be blaming himself for everything that’s happened to their family. He’s in such a fragile state at the moment, he’s sure learning of Viserys’ betrayal might actually kill him. 

They need to preserve him for as long as he is king, they have time to figure out a way to reveal Viserys’ true colors.

It’s not an easy task, they must be discreet so as to not arouse suspicions. It’s a little pointless. Jon knows Viserys knows they’re onto him. They have Daenerys and her fiery temper to thank for that. The memory of her, shaking and holding onto Robb’s arms, streams of tears running down her cheeks is etched in his memory.

Jon is man enough to admit he felt something akin to jealousy when he first saw them together. Then, she jumped into his arms and the ugly monster twisting his insides settled down. Still, it’s made him wonder about what happened in the five years he was absent. Daenerys was always the strongest person he knew, a true dragon, feisty, powerful, but above all, unshakable. Viserys never got to her. But now he seems to be able to do so and he doesn’t know if it’s because he’s grown stronger or because she is softer.

_“She reminds me of a winter leaf, you know? So white and so perfect, yet so fragile.”_

He can’t get Robb’s words out of his head. He’s right of course. There’s something about Daenerys, something different. What exactly, he doesn’t know it’s driving him insane. He promised Robb not to let himself be distracted, but the war he is fighting with himself and the war he is fighting with her, _is _a distraction.

As a result, he’s decided to no longer pretend that he doesn’t love Daenerys and doesn’t want her. He was never good at pretending anyway.

He knows there’s something he doesn’t know, something he needs to uncover if he wants to unravel the mystery that is the woman he’s in love with. For Daenerys never said that she didn’t want to marry him, she said that she couldn’t.

He finds her one morning walking out of the kitchen. She’s carrying a huge basket that looks even bigger in her arms. She’s so small and thin, he doesn’t know how she can even walk with it.

_Sheer Targaryen stubbornness_, he thinks, a smile tugging at his lips. He knows Daenerys would call it determination.

He watches from afar and his heart misses a few beats when he notices the limp in her gait. She tries to hide it but there’s no missing it.

He joins her in a few strides.

“Let me help you with that,” he offers, setting his hands on the basket.

“If I needed help, I would ask a servant,” she politely declines.

“Come on, don’t be so stubborn, Daenerys. That thing is twice your size!”

She gives him a look. “I’m not stubborn, my mind is simply…”

“Set on something,” he completes, his hand still on the basket.

She looks surprised that he remembers that about her. “Exactly,” she says slowly. “Now go pester somebody else.”

“I’d contravene all principles of chivalry if I let you struggled with this.”

She lets out a sigh. He feels her grip on the basket loosen a little. “Don’t you have meetings to attend?”

He shakes his head. “Not presently.”

“Very well then,” she lets go of the basket without warning. It’s as heavy as it is huge.

“Where are you at anyway?” He asks as they start walking.

She is not wearing a dress, but riding leathers and a tunic. It’s a simple, rather manly outfit, but she looks as beautiful as always. She has let her hair loose once more, except for the headband holding the flow of it back from her face. It’s something he’s noticed since his return. She doesn’t wear her hair up as often as she used to and her outfits are far less revealing than they were before.

It’s a shame really, for he remembers her wearing a red dress once, once that exposed most of her back. The memory of the curve of her lower back still haunts him…

“Are you listening to me, Jon?”

“Sorry, I got lost in my thoughts for a second,” he clears his throat and forces images of her and her wicked red dress out of his wicked mind. “You were saying?”

“Talisa and I are going to visit an orphanage in Flea Bottom. These are leftovers from last night’s meal.”

“Oh.”

Jon doesn’t know why he’s so surprised. It’s such a Daenerys thing to do. When she was a child, she couldn’t stand the sight of anyone or anything hurting. She once nursed a dove whose wings were broken back to health when most would have killed the poor thing and called it mercy.

They cross path with Robb on the way. That’s when Jon offers to go with them.

“Go where?” Robb asks.

“Visit an orphanage in Flea Bottom. You wouldn’t even need guards with Robb and I to escort you.”

Daenerys arches a doubtful eyebrow at him. “You’re not that scary,” she points out.

Robb smiles a wolfish grin. “You wound me, Your Grace.”

“We may not be,” Jon agrees. “But Ghost and Greywind are.”

Still, Daenerys hesitates. “They might scare the children.”

“Or they might amuse them,” Jon counters.

“I don’t know, Jon, it may not be safe for you to go…”

She has a point. He still wants to go anyway. “How could anyone have planned an attack on me when I didn’t even know I was going myself?”

He’s got her there.

“Fine,” she relents. “It might actually be good for the people to see their Crown Prince.”

xxx

Jon watches Daenerys and Talisa as they walk before him and Robb. They’re standing so close to each other as they whisper words and secrets to one another, Talisa’s dark brown hair is tangled with Daenerys’ silver one. Not for the first time, Jon wonders how they came to be friends. He finds it a little odd that Daenerys closest friend is a foreign lady who is actually more of a healer than a lady. It’s yet another thing to add to the mystery of her.

They make their way through the crowd of people, who instantly recognize them. They greet him respectfully, but not exactly warmly. They’re still mourning Aegon, he knows. At least, they’re not hating on him. Jon knows it will be a long way before they accept him as the Crown Prince. His father earned their love a little more every time he walked down the streets and played for them. Jon cannot play the harp, but he can visit an orphanage with Daenerys. He can show them that he cares too.

They’re greeted by cheers and joyous cries when they reach the orphanage. Children throw themselves at Daenerys’ legs, others take her hands to lead her inside. Love shines in their eyes and the sight of her, surrounded with children, tugs at his heart.

Once they’re all inside, Daenerys introduces him and Robb. At first, the children look very impressed and maybe a little scared too, especially because of the direwolves. But Ghost and Greywind can be as playful as they can be feral. With much reassurance from both him and Robb, some of the bravest children dare touch their furs.

Meanwhile, Daenerys distributes the food and Talisa tends to the sick and wounded. There’s one kid, a little girl, whose arm is put out.

“What do you think you’re doing?” She asks one of the women who care for the children.

“Resetting the arm, m’lady.”

“Not this way. You’ll break her arm if you do it like that. Here, let me show you.”

She swiftly resets the little girl’s arm, who barely has time to cry. Jon watches her, impressed. He glances at Robb and sees the same admiration on his brother’s face. Daenerys then takes the little girl in her arms and cradles her.

“This is how things go here,” she tells him, rubbing a hand up and down the girl’s back. “She heals and I comfort.”

“You both seem very adept at either of these things.”

Daenerys smiles at him then. It’s the first time he’s seen her smile in… years. It fills him with warmth. The little girl then whispers something in her ear that makes her laugh and Jon can’t help but picture another time, another place, a little girl with silver hair in Dany’s arms.

Dany.

She looks like Dany, his Dany, both in his mind where she carries a child of her own, and in this moment when she comforts the daughter of another.

His head starts spinning with unspoken desires, wishful thinking and foolish dreams.

Dany’s expression morphs to something akin to concern.

“Are you alright?”

“Aye, I just need some air.”

He leaves before she can say anything else. He walks out of the orphanage and breathes in the stinking air of Flea Bottom.

“Jon.”

She has followed him. The sound of his name, so soft, so concerned, has him clench his fists in pain.

“Jon?”

She’s right behind him now. He turns to meet her gaze. Her lilac eyes are glowing in the golden daylight. Locks of silver hair surround her round pink cheeks. Like a flower still wet with morning dew, she’s beautiful and delicate. Her lips are red, like rose petals.

She feels unreal.

But she is real, an actual dream come true.

His dream come true. And what does he always do in his dream?

He doesn’t realize he’s moved until his lips are on hers and they’re kissing. It’s a chaste kiss but it sets him on fire. He cups her face and intensifies the pressure of his lips on hers, making the kiss last just one more second.

When he opens his eyes again, he can still feel her on his lips. He doesn’t let go of her, he wants to keep her forever. He notices her cheeks are pinker under his fingers. Her mouth is slightly open, but she’s too stunned to say anything.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” she says at last, swallowing heavily.

“I wanted to.”

He is unapologetic. She pulls away from him still and it hurts more than he cares to admit.

“Let’s head back.”

No. He can’t let her go.

“Talk to me,” he pleads with her, forcing her to look at him.

“And tell you what?”

“Everything you’re not telling me.”

“There’s nothing to tell, Jon.”

And when she makes to leave this time, he doesn’t stop her. He just watches, feeling more in love and lost than ever.

xxx

After Daenerys refuses to talk to him, he tries asking Rhaenys before she leaves King’s Landing once more. But she too refuses to tell him anything, arguing that it is not her secret to tell. Jon is left with his father to ask, but he doesn’t dare for he doesn’t want to reopen old wounds. And he will certainly not ask Viserys whom he hates and distrusts.

He tries asking Ser Jaime Lannister, without whom Daenerys is very rarely seen, but the knight refuses to tell him anything. It seems that Daenerys wasn’t lying when she said he was loyal to her and that makes Jon wonder even more about what could have happened during his absence. He doesn’t remember the two of them being close when he left.

That only leaves him with the other guards, the servants and more importantly, the courtiers as his only source of information. And gods know, they’re not a reliable one. But most rumors are born from the truth that much he knows, so he’ll ask them anyway.

It’s easy for him, since he has suddenly become the courtiers’ favorite attraction. He knows they’re mostly interested in him because he is the heir now and he resents them all a little for their hypocrisy. He had some success with the ladies before, when he was still a bastard, but none of them ever took him seriously. They all used him for their own pleasure and that was fine with him because he did the same. Now, they want to use him to serve their ambitions, so he’ll do the same.

One afternoon, he finds himself walking down the gardens of the Red Keep with none other than Margaery Tyrell, the woman his brother was meant to marry.

The Little Rose is without a doubt, a beautiful woman. Her hair is long and curly and brown, as are her eyes. Her skin is smooth, unblemished and pale. She and Aegon would have made a gorgeous pair.

“You don’t look much like him,” she points out as they walk by the lemon trees.

“I take after my lady mother, or so I’ve been told.”

“Your mother, Lyanna Stark.” She is silent for a second. “I commend you for the tribute you’ve paid her, Knight of the Winter Rose. Nowadays, men are so busy cherishing the name of their father, they forget they have a mother too.”

“I’ve never met my lady mother, but I could never forget about her.”

They stroll through the gardens, silent as the wind as they walk down a white path.

“Let’s drop all pretenses, here,” Lady Tyrell says after a while, “and be honest with each other. I know it is your father’s wish and my family’s as well that you and I honor the alliance concluded with your brother.”

She’s speaking the truth. Rhaegar has urged him to marry Margaery Tyrell. Her family is one of the wealthiest of the realm and they hold the livestock. But Jon has yet to accept, for there is only one woman he can picture himself marrying. And sadly for the Little Rose, her hair is the color of the moon, not the color of land.

“I haven’t had much time to think about who I should marry,” he lies.

“That’s understandable,” she nods. “I must be honest with you though and tell you that my betrothal to your brother wasn’t only one of convenience. I genuinely cared for him and he for me.”

Jon believes her, for Aegon wrote to him once that he was in love with the most beautiful flower in the realm. He understands now that he was speaking of Margaery, and not Dany.

But hearing her confess her feelings makes his blood boil in his veins all over again. He thinks of Aegon’s whose life Viserys ended so cruelly, probably without second thought. His brother had so much to look forward to, a beautiful loving wife, many children, a crown…

“I’m sorry, my lady. I have to say I was quite surprised when I heard of your upcoming engagement. You see, up until I left my brother was meant to marry our aunt.”

The word feels odd on his tongue. He’s so used to Dany being his, his friend, his companion, his love, that he forgets she is his father’s sister, the daughter of a king.

“Their betrothal ended about a year after the king died.” Margaery hesitates before saying. “She was quite ill, for a very long time.”

Yes, she was ill before he left, he remembers. A fever which left her pale and frail as well as cold and cruel.

“An illness, no matter how long, is no reason to end a betrothal,” Jon points out, forcing himself to sound detached and uninterested.

Margaery nods. “Aye, but it is rumored that the illness left Her Grace… barren.”

Jon abruptly stops walking. “Barren?”

“You didn’t know?” She sounds genuinely surprised. He suddenly gets a feeling that she told him this to try and gauge his reaction, as if she was looking for a confirmation of some sort.

“I was away for a long time and my family doesn’t speak about that time,” he struggles to say. “What illness leaves a woman barren?” He asks in disbelief.

She gives him a strange look. “I do not know, Your Grace.”

“You do know,” he counters. “There must have been more to the rumors.”

“I don’t know anything for sure,” she corrects.

“Tell me anyway,” he insists.

“I don’t want to spread potentially false rumors, Your Grace.”

“Don’t worry, this conversation will stay between us.”

Margaery hesitates until she eventually relents. “Well, at some point during her illness, they sent Her Grace to Dragonstone. Many have speculated since then that she wasn’t actually ill, but pregnant with a bastard.”

A bastard? Dany?

Jon is floored. For a second, he can’t tell up from down, left from right.

“And difficult deliveries can indeed lead to the child and mother’s death, to barrenness as well.”

“There’s no proof of that,” he eventually says.

“No,” Margaery agrees. “But why send Her Grace to Dragonstone if there was nothing to hide? Why would your family keep the secret so closely to themselves that not even you are privy to it?”

xxx

Margaery’s revelations leave Jon more desperate than anything ever before. With only a few words, she’s made all his worst nightmares true. He imagines Daenerys in bed with a faceless lover. Then he imagines her heavy with their child, her belly round like the moon. And finally, he imagines her struggling to give birth, he imagines her crying as she loses this child and all the children she can no longer have.

The images cause him so much pain, he wants to scream.

He wonders if this is the reason why she cares about orphans so much, if she takes care of the children of others because she can’t have any herself.

The thought kills him slowly.

He thinks back to his dream, of a little girl with silver hair chasing after a big white wolf. It really was all a dream, another fool’s dream.

xxx

The sun is still high in the sky, he’s got a lot to do, meetings to attend. He chooses to forgo them all and heads for the stables instead.

She’s right there, the object of his affliction, petting a white mare. She turns around when he walks in. She immediately frowns. He doesn’t know what he looks like, but he knows his distress is etched in his features. He cannot lie, cannot hide, not when it comes to her.

“Do you want to go for a ride?” She asks, knowing full-well he’ll not speak to her there.

“Sure,” he gets on his horse, without bothering with a saddle. “Try and catch me!” He throws above his shoulder. Then, he spurs his horse and hurries away, as fast as lightening.

He reaches their clearing, he still thinks of it as theirs, fool that he is, far before she does. He waits for her, his arms crossed over his chest. When she eventually joins him, she is furious.

“What were you thinking, taking off like that?” She asks quickly erasing the distance between them. “How can you ride so carelessly with what happened to Aegon? Do you not care about your life at all?”

Her words make him somewhat angrier. It seems that the only thing she cares about is his well-being, which wouldn’t be so bad, if he didn’t feel as though she cares about it only because she doesn’t want Viserys to be king.

“Well, I didn’t use a saddle, did I?”

His words spark her fury. She shoves him, hard enough for him to stumble.

“You’re an idiot, Jon Snow.”

“It’s Jon Targaryen now!”

“As you wish, Your Grace, they’re both idiots anyway.”

She takes a few steps back, inhales deeply. He sees her shiver as she fights to regain control of her emotions. “Why are you angry with me?”

He is too hurt, too angry to think his next words through.

“Is it true that you lost a child years ago and that you’re barren?”

He doesn’t think she would have looked any different if he’d struck her. Her faces loses all its color.

“Who told you that?” She asks, her tone grave.

“You’re not denying it then?”

“Who told you that?” She asks again, and there’s a storm in her voice and it sends a chill down his spine. She is terrifying.

“A servant,” he lies.

“Since when do you listen to the servants’ gossips?”

“You’re still not denying said gossips.”

She sighs, her shoulders falling a little. She is not terrifying anymore, just sad and lonely. “I’m not barren, but I might as well be.”

“And were you or were you not with child?”

“Why don’t you ask me what you really want to, Jon? Why don’t you ask me about my many lovers and all the things I let them do to me?”

He shuts his eyes and wills the images she is putting into his mind away. Bile rises up in his throat. “Shut up! I don’t want to hear about that!”

“You’re such a hypocrite!” She suddenly blows up. “I’ve heard about your exploits from more women than I thought possible and somehow you’re the one hurt by the thought of my lovers.”

“Don’t you dare turn things around! You are the one who said it was all a game, you are the one who sent me away. You practically pushed me into their arms!”

She goes whiter at his words. “Well, you didn’t resist much, did you?”

“I don’t care about any of them, Daenerys.”

“Then what do you care about?”

“I care about _you_, you stubborn impossible woman. I care about you. But you never cared about me. You used me and then you went to have fun with some other men. I hope it was good for you, Daenerys, I really hope so.” He shakes his head in disgust.

“Don’t say that,” she says, her eyes brimming with tears.

“Why not? It’s the truth, isn’t it? You moved on to men of your station.”

She turns around. “I can’t talk to you when you’re like that.”

“Don’t you dare!” He says holding her back. “You’re not running from me again. Tell me the truth damn it!”

He doesn’t know if the truth is really what he’s asking for. Deep down, he knows he’s after something else, something stronger, something that will make him stop loving her for good. Because in this moment, he doesn’t want to love her. He doesn’t want to hate her either, he just wants to stop feeling anything for her. He’s in so much pain, he wants his heart back from her so that she can never break it again.

“It’s all a lie, Jon,” she says, her cheeks streamed with tears. Her voice is so soft, he barely hears it.

“What is?”

“All of it.”

He shuts his eyes and just like that the horrible images from before melt away. A shiver wrecks his body. He starts crying too and that’s when he knows he’s reached his limit.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he whispers.

“Do what?”

He doesn’t reply to her, he just closes the distance between them and kisses her.

xxx

For the second time in his life, Jon understands how he came to be. He understand how his father could forget about everything, his honor, his vows, because in this moment, with Daenerys, Dany, he forgets about everything. His honor, his title, none of that matters in the slightest to him. Dany is all that matters, she’s always been.

He’s been with women before, but he was never lost with them. No matter how hard he tried, he was always in control, always careful, always mindful.

He is not with Dany for he has wanted her for a very long time and loved her for a time even longer.

He kisses her fervently, fearing that it might be the last time he gets to, fearing that she will push him away any minute.

She doesn’t.

Instead, she kisses him back with just as much fervor. She tugs at the band holding his hair and frees it from its constraint. His dark curls fall around his head and she runs her fingers through them, digging her nails in his scalp. He groans against her lips.

He backs her against a tree. Swiftly, he lifts her up and thank the Gods, she is wearing breeches. She easily wraps her legs around his waist. She fits so perfectly against him, if there was any doubt left in his mind that she was meant for him, they disappear instantly. He presses against her, letting her feel just how much he wants her. She arches in response, bringing him impossibly closer to her.

Their kiss changes right then and there. He presses against her lips, demanding entrance, which she grants. She must be as lost as he is and he doesn’t give her time to find herself and her comment sense again. His tongue sweeps boldly inside her mouth. Past, present and future melt together, bound together by the longing that’s been a companion of his heart for the past five years. He remembers everything she likes, all the tricks that arouse her. He quickly gets reacquainted with her, the feel of her, the taste of her.

She’s warm against him and soft. Her breasts press against his hard chest in the most delicious way. She smells of herbs and flowers, oils and lemons and it drives him crazy with ache and want. She has bewitched him, he realizes, for he’s never felt that way for another woman.

The need for air forces him to part from her mouth. He starts trailing kisses down her jaw, then down the column of her throat. Her white skin turns pink and a satisfied smile stretches his lips. Then he hisses when her hands, which have moved from his head to his waist, untuck his tunic from his breeches and brush against the skin of his abdomen.

He opens her pants in retaliation and slips a searching hand inside them. He finds her wet and ready for him and it makes his head spin. He touches her there, but it’s more the ghost of a touch than anything. Still, she lets out the most delicious of moan. Jon wants to hear it again, louder, he wants to her say her name too, scream it.

So he touches her there again, like he’s done before in this very clearing. He slides one finger, then two inside her, his thumb quickly finding the aroused peak that makes her writhe against him. All the while, he takes her tunic and under tunic off her with his free hand. She helps him by lifting her arms up and if she wasn’t holding onto him for dear life with her legs, she would have fallen. That doesn’t worry either of them, lost as they are in their lust.

Jon’s heart stops in his chest when he sees her exposed breasts. The skin of her chest is white, unblemished. Her nipples are pink and pert, begging to be kissed. So he does, tearing more keen noises from her.

His fingers work even harder, bringing her closer to the edge. He wants her over it so he bites her nipple just as he crooks his fingers inside her. Her body spasms in his arms as she cries out his name and he helps ride the waves of her pleasure until they’re nothing more than ripples on a pond.

She kisses him then, and it’s soft and lazy, as if they have all the time in the world.

But they don’t and soon enough, their kisses grow urgent again. Dany’s eager hands reach his breeches, open them. She takes a hold of him and he groans against her mouth. He’s aching terribly, has been aching for her his whole life. She touches him expertly, remembering how to pleasure him the same way he did.

She brings him to her entrance and he falters. He parts away from her, meets her lilac eyes. He is searching for an answer to his unspoken question. He doesn’t find it in her eyes, but in her voice, in the way she says his name.

“_Jon_.”

He cannot deny her, not when she pleads with him like that.

He enters her swiftly and he’s too overwhelmed by the feel of her at first, to understand what that slight resistance means, what her pained gasp reveals. But when he does, he is floored.

“Dany, you’re…” he breathes against her mouth.

“I told you,” she whispers back, her lips brushing against his with every word she speaks, “it’s all a lie.”

He almost stumbles back, but her legs around his waist keep him where he is.

She is a virgin. Well, she was and she just let him in, like she never has anyone else in her life. And he, absolute fool that he is, is taking her against a tree, like she’s some worthless whore and not the woman he loves.

He brings her closer to him, his hands coming around and holding onto her naked back. He feels rough, puckered skin, but he’s too lost in the moment to think much of it. He moves her from the tree and sets her down on the soft grass, her silver hair forming a crown around her head, much like the day he realized he loved her.

He loves her still, but he doesn’t say it for his throat is too tight for him to form words. He shows her instead and loves her softly for hours on end. He kisses her torso, her breasts, her arms, her neck, her face. He caresses her body reverently and asks for her forgiveness. She’s never let anyone touch her, he’s sure of it now, but he has. So, when she wants to rid him of his clothes and claim him back he lets her. He holds her gaze the whole time and lets her see that he’s been hers the whole time, that he’ll always be hers.

And as they reach new heights of pleasure together, he can only hope that she’ll always be his as well. For the first time in years, it doesn’t feel like another fool’s dream.

xxx

Daenerys knows it’s a mistake when Jon first kisses her.

She decides she doesn’t care when she kisses him back. She’s been missing him for five long years. She’s tired of missing him. And she wants to be his, even if it’s just for one fleeting moment.

So she kisses him back. And she lets him touch her. She touches him back too and it amazes her how he still reacts to her.

It’s difficult, even painful to be with him. The position they’re in pulls on her scars and she’s actually relieved when he moves them down to the grass. She’s also scared every minute he’ll feel the scars on her back or take off her breeches and see her legs.

Thankfully, they’re too lost in each other to undress completely.

Being loved by Jon is glorious. And it’s more than she could have ever imagined, more than she deserves too. She commits the moment to memory, knowing she’ll cherish it for the rest of her life.

It’s only afterwards, when they lay tangled in the grass together, that she realizes what they have done and the state she’s in. She’s half-naked in the arms of the man she loves. She’s never felt more vulnerable, more exposed.

She tenses up in his arms and he feels it immediately.

“What is it?”

She sits down and scrambles to put her tunic back on. She feels instantly more comfortable.

“Nothing, we just ought to head back is all. Night’s falling.”

She points out at the sky, where the sun is almost completely gone. They’ve been gone for hours, people must be looking for them.

“Dany, wait!” He captures her wrists and forces her to stop moving. She meets his gray eyes, sees the hope shining in them. “Are we not going to talk about what just happened?”

“Jon please…”

“No, Dany, enough!” His hope, a shining light, turns red and ugly. He’s getting angry again. “I told you I can’t do this anymore!”

She swallows heavily. “What is this?”

“This thing with you, where you let me in only to push me away.” He lets go of her wrists and threads his fingers with hers. “Surely, you must know how I feel for you. I was angry at first when I came back, but that didn’t last long. Truth is, I can’t stay mad at you, Dany, because I love you.”

She closes her eyes and shakes her head, as if to deny what he’s telling her.

“It’s true, Dany. I love you. I always have and always will.”

A lump forms in her throat. “You can’t,” she whispers.

“Yes, I can. I do. And I know you do too.”

“I don’t,” she lies.

He doesn’t believe her, but her denial still makes him flinch in pain. “Then what was the point of this?”

One of his hands brushes against his neck, where she’s left a mark with her lips and teeth. Her heart clenches painfully in her chest at the sight of it. The mark will soon fade away and all that’ll be left will be memories.

Beautiful, bitter memories.

“You don’t know everything that’s happened.”

_You don’t know me_, is what she thinks.

“I would if you told me,” he argues and he looks at her expectantly.

“I can’t, Jon.”

He abruptly lets go of her hands. He gets on his feet, puts some distance between them.

“You can’t.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “That’s what you always say. “I can’t marry you, Jon”, “I can’t tell you, Jon”, well, guess what? I can’t too! I can’t be the fool that keeps putting himself out there, that keeps pouring his heart out for you only to get rejected times and times again. I can’t be your fool anymore.”

He stares down at her from where he is standing, while she’s still crumpled on the ground. He waits for her to speak, but no words come out of her mouth. She can’t tell him the truth. Once he knows, once he sees, he’ll reject her at best and at worst, he’ll pity her and stay with her out of obligation. She doesn’t want him to be trapped with her. He deserves to have a beautiful wife, one he’ll have no reason to be ashamed of.

When she doesn’t speak, a single tear rolls down his cheek. Then he turns around and leaves.

xxx

The moon is high in the sky when Dany returns to the Red Keep. She is numb and cold after the events of the day. All she wants is sleep and never wake up again.

Talisa is waiting for her in her rooms, her arms crossed over her chest, concern etched in her features.

“Why are you still up?”

“Why am I still up?” Talisa looks at her as if she’s some sort of misbehaving child. “I was waiting for you to return! You’ve been gone for hours, you didn’t say where you were going or when you’d get back! I was worried and so was your brother! He would have sent people out to search for you if the Crown Prince had not come back.”

Dany doesn’t have anything to say to that. She just stands there, her eyes lost in the distance.

“What happened?” Talisa asks, this time far gentler.

She shakes her head. Then, she starts crying.

Talisa is at her side in a minute. She helps her down on her bed and holds her through waves and waves of tears. When they finally stop coming, Dany has never felt more exhausted in her life. Her eyes are dry, as is the rest of her body. She feels empty and she wonders how she can be so devoid of happiness when she reached new heights of delight just a few hours prior.

“What happened?” Talisa asks again now that she is calmer.

“The same as always,” Dany replies. “I love Jon and I hurt him.”

“And, what else?”

Dany closes her eyes. Her lips tingle where the ghost of a kiss lingers. Her heart aches in her chest at the memory and she clenches her fists on her knees.

“Daenerys?”

She tells her the whole truth, her voice barely louder than a whisper. Talisa listens very carefully and remains silent long after she’s done talking.

“Why didn’t you tell him the truth?” She asks after what feels like an eternity.

“You know why.”

“I want to hear it from you.”

“Because he’ll reject me!” She bursts out. “My legs are horrible, Talisa! Horrible!”

“That’s what you think!”

“It’s the truth! You’ve seen them, you’ve touched them! They’re the most repellent thing ever and you know it.”

“They’re ugly, yes,” Talisa agrees. “But I don’t think His Grace would mind them.”

“You don’t know him.”

“Aye, you’re right, but you do. He’s told you he loves you. He thinks that you’ve played him, used him and yet he loves you enough to confess his feelings once more. He doesn’t sound like someone who would be scared off by some scars.”

“They’re not just some scars. And I don’t want him to be with me because he pities me.”

“I see you have very little faith in him.” Talisa sighs in resignation. She gets up and walks to the door. “Don’t let how you view yourself ruin the most beautiful thing that has ever happened to you.”

And with that she walks out, leaving Dany feel more alone than ever.

xxx

Jon avoids her the next day. And the day after. And again the day after.

Days turn to weeks. Weeks turn to months. The chasm between them keeps widening and neither of them do anything to stop it.

It hurts, this distance when they were so close not so long ago. But it’s better this way, or so she tells herself.

_Better for who?_ A voice that sounds suspiciously like Talisa’s whispers in her mind.

Jon only speaks to her when he has to, when they’re in public. He acts like he is fine but he isn’t. He gets carried away during a sparring session once and breaks Ser Jaime’s nose. He barely apologizes and when Dany talks about it with the knight, he says he’s just “a jealous idiot”.

They still discuss Viserys, but they never do it alone. Robb Stark is always around. There’s not much to say about him anyway. He’s covered his tracks so well, they haven’t found anything to incriminate him. Every time she sees him, Dany has to refrain from attacking him again. She wants nothing more but wipe that proud smirk from his face.

The moon chases the sun in the sky as time keeps moving.

Dany doesn’t see a lot of Jon, but she sees a lot of his wolf. He first comes to her one night that she’s having a nightmare. He saves her from her demons by licking her face until she wakes.

“How did you get in?” She whispers in the darkness of the night.

He doesn’t answer her of course, he just settles on her bed and quickly falls sleep.

He starts following her around after that and Dany wonders if Jon’s sent him because he’s afraid Viserys will try something against her. She doesn’t dare ask him though and just bears the presence of the giant direwolf at her side. She tries sending him away at first, but much like his master, he always finds his way back to her. He is a comforting presence at her side throughout the day, a piece of Jon that still remains with her. She’s selfish enough to want to keep him with her just a little bit longer.

Time doesn’t stop its course and before Dany realizes it, six moons have passed since Aegon’s death. It both feels like it happened a minute and an eternity ago. She dreams of him at night. She wakes up to the echo of his laugh and expects him to find her waiting for her. She’s always disappointed. He is gone and will never come back.

xxx

Rhaegar insists on celebrating Jon’s nameday, his first as the Crown Prince, with a feast and a small tourney. The people of King’s Landing remember all too well what happened during the last tourney, but Rhaegar doesn’t care. Dany, who understands him better than most, knows he wants to make Jon feel loved. He’s lost one son already and he is set on cherishing the one he has left. Dany can’t fault him for that.

Most of the nobles have come to King’s Landing, including the Starks of Winterfell. For many, it’s the first time they meet their new Crown Prince. It’s important that Jon makes a good impression on them and more importantly, wins the tourney. Dany isn’t too worried about that. The Knight of the Winter Rose is an adept rider and skilled warrior.

That first morning of the tourney, Dany is on her knees on the floor, bringing back up whatever is in her stomach. Beads of sweat have formed on her forehead, so she lies on the cold ground until she starts shivering.

She’s been sick for weeks now, every morning without fail. She’s lost some weight and there are dark circles under her eyes, because sometimes it’s not just in the morrow that she is sick, but throughout the entire day too. There are some smells that she cannot bear any longer.

She’s exhausted.

Added to that, her back aches and her breasts are so sensitive, she can barely wash herself. Her courses haven’t visited her in months. She’s afraid of what it means.

“Perhaps you ought to stay here and rest for the night,” Talisa suggests.

Night has fallen. Dany is curled up in a ball on her bed. She has to get dressed for the feast, but she has little strength left. It’s been a particularly draining day, with all the guests she has to entertain and all the things she has to oversee.

Rhaegar always says the Red Keep would have crumbled a long time ago without her. during times like these, she tends to agree with him.

“It’s Jon’s night tonight. I can’t miss it.”

“There’ll be other feasts for you to attend, when the tourney ends for example.”

Dany shakes her head. If anything, she’d rather miss the last feast. Jon, who is assured to win the tourney, will crown one of the ladies of the court Queen of Love and Beauty. She doesn’t want to see _that_ or him dance with the lucky lady all night.

“I won’t wear myself out, I promise.”

“We need to talk about this…”

Dany stiffens. She wraps her arms around herself protectively.

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

Her tone is final as is her decision to go.

xxx

The feast that night is grandiose. The food is delicious, excellent Dornish wine flows freely and so does Northern ale, a present brought by Jon’s uncle.

Dany doesn’t try any of it.

Her stomach is knotted in her belly and there’s a lump in her throat. She spends every minute of the feast fighting off waves of nausea. But from the look of her, no one can tell, for she fights twice as hard to appear her usual charming and proper self. She smiles at people’s jests and always comes up with a witty and inspired reply when spoken to.

Singers, actors and magicians entertain them throughout the night and the highlight of the evening is when Rhaegar sits with his harp and plays a song for his son. He hasn’t played since Aegon’s death and his performance leaves no one indifferent. Dany, herself, can’t stop the flow of tears streaming down her cheeks.

The ball starts after his song and soon enough people are dancing across the Queen’s ballroom. Dany watches as Rhaegar spins Rhaenys’ around with a small smile on her face. Father and daughter never looked better than in this moment.

“Care to dance, dear sister?”

Viserys’ presence alone is enough to tighten the knot around her stomach. She fears the worst might happen if she actually dances with him. She’s saved from replying to him when Robb Stark joins them and smoothly steals her away. They join the other dancers.

“Thank you, my lord, for rescuing me once more.”

“It’s always a pleasure, Your Grace!”

“As much as I enjoy dancing with you,” she says after a few minutes, “I think there’s another lady who is waiting to dance with you.”

She discreetly points at Talisa, who keeps throwing glances at the dancers as she speaks to the Great Maester Pycelle.

“Do you really think so?”

Dany nods, a small smile stretching her lips. She’s had the most fun watching Jon’s cousin and her friend hovering around each other.

“Very well then, I shall invite her for the next dance.”

It seems that even one dance with Robb Stark was too much for her to handle. Beads of sweat form on her forehead after they part ways and her head keeps spinning even though she’s not dancing anymore.

She quickly makes her way out of the crowded room. There will be no more dancing for her that night.

xxx

The final joust will oppose Jon to Loras Tyrell. The knight is a skilled rider and warrior, but he’s no match for Jon. She’s watched him train and even she, a woman who doesn’t understand much about war and fighting, was impressed. There is no doubt in Dany’s mind that he will win and not for the time, she wonders if this was not the Gods’ plan from the beginning. Jon was born to be king, she’s surer of it now than ever.

She tells Ser Jaime so as they sit on the balcony in her rooms and watch the sun rise above King’s Landing.

“Ser Jaime?” She asks when he doesn’t answer her. She glances his way and finds him lost in his thoughts. “Ser Jaime?” She asks again, her voice softer.

“I’m sorry, Your Grace,” he says, “but I’m wondering whether I should tell you something or not.”

“You know you can tell me anything.”

“Even something that will not please you?”

She frowns, taken aback by the seriousness of his tone. “Aye, even something that will not please me.”

“Very well then. You say Jon was born to be king, but who was born to be queen?”

Dany stiffens immediately. It is indeed something that does _not _please her. “There is no use for a queen who can’t bear her husband children.”

“You can have children,” Jaime points out.

“My legs…” she starts protesting.

“Enough with your legs!” She’s surprised by his outburst. He’s never raised his voice around her. “Are you really going to stand by and watch the man you love crown another today just because you think your legs make you unattractive, undesirable?”

She glares at him. “I think you’re forgetting yourself, Ser,” she replies curtly, facing away from him.

“I think not, Your Grace. Remember, it is my sacred duty to protect you from those who would harm you, yourself included.”

She remembers all too well when he first said those words to her.

“I’m not causing myself any harm,” she counters weakly.

“Yes, you are. You’re denying yourself happiness.”

She shakes her head. “It was taken from me a long time ago.”

“Yes,” Ser Jaime agrees. “But look how lucky you are!”

“I lost the man I love and my father almost killed me twice! I don’t feel so lucky.”

“The way I see it, you faced death twice and won twice. And now, a love that you thought was lost forever has been returned to you and you’re wasting it away.”

“Jon is not in love with me.”

“He broke my nose during training because he’s jealous of how much time we spend together. The lad isn’t indifferent to you.”

“Fine,” Dany concedes, her annoyance growing. “Then, he’s in love with a version of me that doesn’t exist. He doesn’t know me, doesn’t know what’s happened to me…

“And why is that?”

She stammers. “Well, because…”

“I’ll tell you why,” Ser Jaime interrupts. “You’re afraid.”

“Yes, of course, I’m afraid! I’m afraid of being rejected.”

“No,” Ser Jaime counters, his tone both scolding and fatherly. “The lad has seen the worst side of you and he still loves you. You’re not afraid that he will not love you, because you know he does and don’t tell me he doesn’t know you. You know he does too. Five years you’ve been apart, but he still knows you best.” He pauses. “You’re afraid of him seeing you as anything less than perfect.”

She’s at a loss for words.

“I’ve known the two of you for most of your life and there hasn’t been a day during which Jon Snow hasn’t been in love with you. You can do no wrong in his eyes. You stomped on his heart and he still gave it back to you, asking for more. He’s forgone his pride for you, but you won’t do the same for him.”

“This has nothing to do with pride.”

“Yes, it has to do with pride. He thinks you’re the most beautiful woman in the world and you don’t want him to see that you have flaws.”

“It’s not that simple, I’m not that vain!”

Ser Jaime nods. He takes a hold of her hand, something he rarely does. “I know. I know you better than most people, although not better than him. And this is why I know you haven’t forgiven yourself for sending him away.”

A single tear rolls down her cheeks.

“It was my fault his life was in danger. I was the one who kissed him first. He betrayed his brother because of me and then he never saw him again. _Because of me_. He says he loves me now, but one day he’ll realize all the things he’s lost because of me. Then, he’ll hate me.”

“Then your scars aren’t the problem. They never were,” Ser Jaime tells her softly. “You simply haven’t forgiven yourself yet.”

Dany snorts. There’s nothing simple about this. Her scars are who she is. They’re broken, ugly, worthless. And she doesn’t want Jon to see them, she doesn’t him to see her. Broken, ugly, worthless.

“I think you should let him decide for himself how to feel about you,” Ser Jaime says before leaving her to her dark and lonely thoughts.

xxx

Dany remains where Ser Jaime left her, alone, for a very long time. She stays on the floor of her balcony, her knees to her chest. She can’t see much of the city in this position and perhaps it’s just as well.

Ser Jaime’s words echo in her mind, making her head spin and her ears ring. He might as well still be with her for how strong his voice resonates inside her.

Surprisingly enough, she’s not thinking about Jon. She’s thinking about Aegon.

She is remembering his eyes, now closed, his smile, now lost. She is thinking about all the things he’ll never get to do now, all because of one man’s folly. He’ll never marry the woman he loved, never hold a child of his own in his arms, never sit on the Iron Throne. It’s unfair, really, and it revolts her.

But then again, their lives have always been unfair.

Jon was born a bastard, hated and looked down upon all his life because of it. Rhaenys was betrothed to Viserys and she to Aegon. They were both told to set aside the life they truly wanted for themselves. All in the name of honor. All in the name of duty.

“These are the sacrifices we must make for the good of the people,” Rhaegar once told her.

Dany loves her brother but he is a hypocrite. Wasn’t he the one who took a woman other than his wife for himself?

We bow before neither Gods nor men.

It’s what she would tell herself when she and Jon met in dark places and secret corners.

_“He’s forgone his pride for you, but you won’t do the same for him.”_

She thinks of the scars on her back. She bowed before her father. She forwent her pride that day as she begged for his life. And she would do it all over again, she would burn a thousand times over if she had to.

That’s how much she loves him. And if he loves her just as much…

She thinks of Aegon again. Aegon who is gone too soon. Wifeless, childless.

She once dreamed of an impossible future where she was Jon’s wife, heavy with his child. It’s a dream no more for it is all within her reach now, but she’ll be a fool still if she lets it pass her.

xxx

Dany stands before his tent, unsure of what to do. She’s sweating profusely and her heart is pounding in her chest, hurting her ribs with every beat. She fears she might be sick again.

The final joust is about to begin. If she’s to do anything, it’s now or never.

The decision is made for her when none other than Robb Stark walks out of the tent.

“Your Grace,” he seems surprised to see her.

“Is he…?” She doesn’t even know what she’s asking him.

He steps aside and keeps a portion of the tent opened for her. She slips inside in complete silence.

Jon is standing with his back to her. He’s wearing his brand new armor. The steel is gray, the color of House Stark, his mother’s house, but the fiery red three-headed dragon of House Targaryen adorns the front of it. In her opinion, he’s never looked better, with his curly hair falling around his face.

She takes a few steps closer, enough for him to catch her reflection in the mirror in front of him.

“What are you doing here?” He asks curtly.

“I need to speak with you,” she says, swallowing heavily.

He turns around, the look on his face undecipherable.

“It’s too late for that,” he tells her.

“Jon, please, this is important.”

“I wanted to talk before and you didn’t care whether or not it was important before you denied me.”

For a second, she fears that she might be too late. She fears that she might have pushed him too far this time and that he will not find his way back to her.

_Then I must find my way to him_, she says.

She squares her shoulders and raises her chin proudly. For the first time in five years, she feels like the Daenerys she used to be before her father and the fire.

“I love you,” she tells him and once the words are out, she lets out a long breath. She’s been holding it for five years and it feels good to finally be able to breathe again. But more importantly, it feels good to have finally told him how she feels, to have finally told him the truth.

He closes his eyes upon hearing her confession, his lower lip trembling. “Don’t do that,” he pleads with her.

The pain in his voice breaks her heart. She’s hurt him a lot in the past, she knows it, but it’s the first time that she actually sees and hears it.

“I love you, Jon. I always have and always will,” she tells him.

Before he can say anything, the tent opens again to let Robb in.

“Time to go,” he says.

“I’m coming.”

“Jon…”

“I have to go, Daenerys.”

He leaves without looking back. And Dany, who has never been in this position before when it comes to their relationship, gets a taste of her own medicine. And it does not taste well.

She watches him leave and she’s helpless to stop him.

This time, she fears she might have lost him for good.

xxx

She doesn’t watch the final joust from the royal stand. There’s no time for her to go sit there. She chooses to stand beside Robb instead and watches the joust from the side. It looks more impressive from down here than up there where Rhaenys, Rhaegar and Viserys sit.

As expected, Jon wins against Loras Tyrell. It’s a beautiful fight, but the Golden Rose of the Reach simply is no match for the Winter Rose of King’s Landing.

Dany watches as Jon rides along the stand, a crown of blue roses in hand. Whoever he chooses to crown will be the luckiest queen in the world, she knows.

But Jon doesn’t crown any of the ladies sitting in the stand. He takes off his helmet instead and gets down from his horse. Silence falls over the crowd as everyone waits with baited breaths to see what he’ll do next.

Daenerys’ heart is now firmly lodged in her throat. His eyes search the crowd right until he finds her. The intensity in his dark gray orbs leaves her breathless. Yet, he doesn’t take a step in her direction. He just stares at her and waits.

He waits for her.

And because they’ve waited long enough, she doesn’t hesitate before stepping on the field. The closer to him, she gets the harder her heart kick in her chest. By the time she reaches Jon, she fears it might actually dig its way out of her chest to join him.

The moment she reaches him, she forgets about time and space, about propriety and everyone surrounding them. She throws her arms around him. He catches her easily, lifts her up. She brings her lips down to his and seals their love with one searing kiss.

xxx

Much later, after Jon crowned her Queen of Love and Beauty, after he talked to everyone who wanted to congratulate him on his victory, they find themselves alone in her rooms.

Jon closes the door behind them and presses her against the hard wood. He rests his forehead against hers and lets out a long breath.

They’re both shaking.

“I feel like I’m caught up in a dream,” he whispers, his breath caressing her skin. “Tell me this is real.”

“It’s real,” she cups his face between her hands.

He smiles at her before capturing her lips in another searing kiss that leaves them both breathless. But before they can go further, Dany stops them.

“I need to talk to you,” she says, her voice wavering.

And because it’s Jon, he immediately understands that she is serious. He moves them away from the door and helps her sit down on a chair. She’s suddenly overcome with nervousness and her mind goes blank. She doesn’t know what to say anymore, doesn’t know what to do. He kneels before her and takes her hands in his, stopping their trembling.

“Just tell me,” he says, his voice soft like a caress.

“I lied to you five years ago.” The words stumble out of her mouth in a hurry. She takes a deep breath, tries to calm herself.

He nods slowly. “I figured.”

She blushes, remembering the last time they were in their clearing, his reaction when he realized she had never been with another man.

“Viserys saw us and told my father. He would have killed you, Jon, but I convinced him to banish you instead.”

He tightens his grip on her hands. “You convinced him? Your father?”

A shiver wrecks her body as she remembers the cold bite of her father’s belt as it broke the skin of her back.

“Not without pain.”

Something shifts in his eyes, recognition she thinks and she is not surprised. He touched her back that day in the clearing.

“Your fever…” He suddenly reaches up to the fastenings of her dress, but she stops him before he can take it off her.

“Dany…” He pleads with her.

“I was a mess after you left, Jon. I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep… I just missed you so much.”

“I missed you too,” he tells her quickly and she smiles a small smile.

“My father… he wasn’t happy with me.” Her throat tightens again and her next words get caught. It doesn’t help that she can feel him tense against her, as though he’s slowly understanding that the worst is still to come.

“I don’t remember much of what happened, only bits and pieces. I remember him summoning me to his solar and then talking nonsense about…” She has to stop. This is more difficult than she thought, with the monsters in her head lurking around. She takes a deep breath and steels herself.

“He talked nonsense about me being weak and stupid, a shame. I don’t know how it happened, but he set fire to his solar with me still in it. I think he did it on purpose. He thought the fire would purify me somehow.”

She knows the moment Jon understands what she’s trying to tell him. His grip on her hands tightens. His gaze holds hers steady, his emotions bare and naked for her to see.

“My dress caught fire and I was badly injured,” she eventually tells him and a painful cry fall from his lips. “I owe my life to Ser Jaime who got me out before I was burnt alive.” She pauses and hears the echo of her father’s laugh in the depth of her memory. “My legs, they’re…” her voice trails down and she never finishes her sentence. She risks a glance his way and sees his eyes are brimming with tears.

“You limp,” he says throatily. “I’ve seen you.”

“Sometimes, walking is difficult. It pulls on my scars and…”

“You limp,” he says again.

“After the fire, the wounds on my legs festered and my blood was poisoned as a result. I was unconscious for weeks, my mind was troubled with fever dreams and I almost went mad with agony. I nearly died, Jon, and I owe my life to Talisa and her teacher, Qaithe.”

“Oh Dany…” Jon’s voice is hoarser than ever, laced with unadulterated pain. “I should have been with you. Why didn’t you send for me? I would have come immediately and I would have been with you the whole time.”

“I kept calling you or so I’ve been told,” she tells him. “I’m not too surprised, as feverish as I was you were always in my dreams.”

“Then why did no one write to me?” His tone is desperate.

“We worked so hard to keep my accident a secret. If people knew of my father’s folly… it could have undermined us. And a raven could have been intercepted.”

“Dany, it wasn’t an accident. Your father tried to kill you.”

She nods, the reminder perhaps more painful than the fire was that day. “I know.”

He brings her hands to his lips and kisses them tenderly. “I’ve treated you so terribly ever since I came back, the things I said to you… my father, Rhaenys, they tried to warn me, but I could never have imagined this… Dany, I’m so sorry.” He looks horrified, disgusted with himself.

“There’s nothing to forgive,” she assures him.

“Yes, there is.” He pauses, looks down at her legs, still hidden by the skirt of her dress. “May I?” He asks her, almost reverently. Unable to speak, she nods and he makes a move to lift the skirt of her dress. She stops him at the last second, her breathing having gone from uneven to downright frantic.

“Jon, wait! My legs… nothing could prepare you for the sight of them. There’s not much skin left on them, they’re only scar tissue now.”

“I’ve been to war, Dany,” he tells her softly.

Slowly, he pries her fingers away from his hands. Then, he lifts her skirt. Her heart stops in her chest as he exposes her marred skin to his eyes. She shudders when he brushes her knee with his thumb.

“Does it hurt?” He asks, taking his hand away.

She shakes her head and nervous beads of sweat roll down her forehead. She quickly wipes them with the back of her hand. “No. Talisa is the only one who’s ever touched them is all.”

Jon nods and resumes his examination of her legs. She’s surprised when she feels something wet on her skin. He is crying.

“Gods, Dany, why didn’t you tell me the truth sooner? Did you really think I would care about your scars?” The look on her face says it all. “You did. How could you think so little of me?”

“The same way, you could think so little of me, I assume.”

Her words are true and the truth hurts him, as it very often does.

“I was also ashamed,” she adds.

He looks at her in bewilderment. “Ashamed?”

“The things I told you, Jon…” She doesn’t need to be more specific for him to understand what things she’s referring to.

“You were trying to save my life.”

“After I put you in danger! I kissed you first, Jon. You betrayed your brother because of me, it’s not something I’m proud of.”

The pain in his eyes is replaced with anger. Cold, white, anger.

He is livid.

“In case you haven’t noticed I’m here on my own free will, I’ve always been here on my own free will. You didn’t make me do anything I didn’t want to.” He inhales sharply. “Aye, we betrayed Aegon and maybe it wasn’t right, but love doesn’t care about right and wrong and neither do I, not when it comes to you.”

He lets go of her legs and stands up. She immediately sets the skirt of her dress back in place. Jon watches her do so with a disapproving look.

“Now, is this why you said you couldn’t marry me?” He doesn’t wait for her reply before he answers his own question. “Of course, it is.” He shakes his head, his anger even more obvious. “Do you think that I love you less because of your scars?”

She nods slowly.

“You were wrong. If anything, I think I love you even more.” He takes her hands and helps her up. “Do you know what I see when I look at them?” He asks, cupping her head between his hands to force her to look at him.

She shakes her head. “I see strength, resilience, compassion and I really wish you had trusted me with the truth earlier so that I could have told you this a long time ago.” He closes his eyes, rests his forehead against hers once more. “The past few months have been among the worst of my life. Having you once more only to lose you again… I could not bear it if it happened a third time.”

“It won’t,” she promises, her hands finding their way to his hair. “Never again,” she vows.

He smiles. “Does this mean you’ll marry me?”

“Are you sure this is what you want? My scars, Jon…”

He rolls his eyes at her. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Dany. Always have, always will.” He leans down and kisses her nose. “Now, please answer my question.”

She beams at him and tears of joy burn at the corner of her eyes. “Yes, a thousand times yes!”

Jon smiles. “Please, if this is a dream, let it last forever.”

“It’s not a dream, Jon.”

And she kisses him to prove it.

xxx

Their kiss doesn’t end at a kiss.

At first, Jon is soft and gentle with her. He undresses her slowly and kisses every inch of her body, including her legs and her back. She shivers in his arms the whole time, but he never lets go of her. He loves her so much, she feels it in the reverence with which he touches her. And with his help, she learns to love herself again.

It’s all tender kisses and sweet caresses, whispered words of love and longing, until she grows urgent and so does he. They’ve been apart for too long.

Jon licks the sweat from her skin and starts to move a little faster, a lot deeper. She arches her back when he hits that sweet spot inside her that makes her see stars. She presses her chest against his. Her hands come up to his head and she runs her fingers through his dark curls. She’s always loved his hair, loved how long and soft it is.

His hand finds her hips and squeezes, hard enough to leave marks. She can’t bring herself to care. She wants him to leave his mark on her, a reminder of this moment that is the culmination of everything they’ve gone through together. She wants him to be rough with her, she wants him to make her feel alive.

And he does. He ignites her fire, lights up her whole world.

And it’s more glorious than she could have ever imagined.

xxx

They lay in her bed afterward, their limbs tangled together in a way that makes it difficult for Dany to know where she ends and Jon begins. She smiles. This is how she always felt when they were growing up, for he was always the biggest, most important and most beautiful part of her.

She hums in content. Her head is resting on Jon’s torso, with her ear close to his heart. She listens to its steady rhythm and lets it lull her to sleep. She can already feel her eyes growing heavier and it’s a good thing, she’s been so tired lately…

“Don’t fall asleep on me just yet,” Jon whispers against her hair. “We still have tonight’s feast to attend. And I plan on dancing with you all night long.”

“All night?”

“All night,” he repeats, dropping a kiss on the crown of her hair.

She shifts her position around him a little, enough to be able to look at him. “Because I had some ideas about how to spend the night…”

He smiles at her and it illuminates his face. The sight warms her heart. He should smile more.

“I love you,” he tells her. “Always have and always will,” he quickly adds and they share a knowing smile. “But as much as I do, I think we should be careful, at least until we are wed.”

She gives him a look. “I kissed you in front of all the nobles of the kingdom. And we’ve been in here a while. They already think the worst of us, trust me.”

“Still. We shouldn’t give grist to the mill.”

Dany arches an eyebrow at him. “I thought you were supposed to be a wicked bastard.”

“And I thought you were supposed to be a proper princess…” his voice trails down as he seems to be realizing what he’s saying. She was never proper, not when it came to him anyway and they both know it.

“Just stop trying to seduce me, woman!” He kisses her forehead and gets out of bed.

“Why?” She says, turning on her back to watch him get dressed. “Are you afraid I’ll succeed?”

“You know you will.”

He dons his tunic again before sitting next to her on her bed, one of his hands falling on her hip. The contrast between her white skin and his darker, rougher, one is fascinating and for a second, she’s lost in thoughts of his hand on other parts of her body.

“Thank you for trusting me with the truth, Dany,” he whispers against her hair. “My only regret is that you didn’t tell me sooner. It would have spared me many sleepless nights.”

“I’m—”

He presses his index finger against her lips. “Don’t say it! I know. I understand.” He tenses against her, clears his throat and she knows there will be no rest for them. “There’s one last thing we need to talk about. Viserys.”

“What about him?”

“I already wanted to kill him after what he did to Aegon, but now…” he clenches his fists, his jaw, and he’s so tense she fears he might break. She reaches up and cups his cheeks between her hands.

“It’s like he’s had this plan of becoming king for a while now. First, he got me out of the way, then Rhaenys left and remember, she was betrothed to him.”

“That only was reason enough to leave,” Dany agrees.

“And after she was gone,” Jon goes on, “only Aegon was left on his path to the throne.” He inhales sharply. “He needs to pay.”

“He will,” Dany assures him.

“He probably won’t be happy about our betrothal, he will feel threatened. I’m hoping he will make a mistake.”

“You want us to tell everyone?” She guesses.

He nods. “This is a happy moment for us,” he tells her. “The happiest moment of my life. But I will not be able to enjoy it so long as he leaves and breathes. He’s caused us so much pain, Dany, he’s hurt you so much… I want him out of our lives.”

She kisses his brow, smoothing the creases between his eyes. “Me too.”

xxx

Talisa helps Dany prepare for the feast. She’s the first person Dany tells about her upcoming nuptials. She smiles at her in genuine happiness when she hears the news.

“What did I tell you? The right man will love you exactly as you are.”

She looks particularly pleased with herself and Dany can’t really blame her. She did tell her exactly that. As she leaves to prepare herself for the feast, Dany can’t help taunting her.

“Perhaps I’m not the only one who will soon be wed.”

She swears she sees a blush creep up her friend’s cheek before she closes the door behind her. She smiles in amusement.

Talisa hasn’t been gone long when there’s a knock on her door. Her brother Rhaegar doesn’t wait for her invitation to come in. He silently walks up to her, grabbing the crown of blue roses Jon left on a table after taking it off her head.

“I once gave my Lyanna a crown such as this one,” he tells her before setting it on her head once more. “I daresay you look as beautiful as she did that day, sister.”

“Has Jon spoken with you?”

“He has. I’m happy to hear that you’ve finally come to your senses and accepted to marry him.”

Dany frowns, unsure of what his true meaning is. “I don’t understand…”

“I was never blind, Dany, especially not when it all happened right in front of me. I always knew you and Jon fancied each other.”

She wasn’t expecting to hear such words from him. “It was a little more than that,” she says slowly.

“I know. I was afraid for a long time that you would deny yourself happiness forever.”

“You’re one to talk,” she replies. Her brother loves blaming himself for things that are not his fault and he remembers all the ways in which he has failed better than he does all the good he’s ever done in his life.

“We’re a lot alike, aren’t we?”

She nods, brushing a hand against the soft petal of the roses on her head. “You really loved her, didn’t you?”

She doesn’t need to say her name, he knows who she’s speaking of. And as usual when Lyanna Stark is mentioned, a veil of sadness covers his eyes.

“More than life itself. I never meant to hurt my family or disrespect my wife. I didn’t choose this love, this love chose me, and I was unable to resist it.”

He sounds so much like Jon in this moment… everyone claims Jon is Lyanna’s son before he is Rhaegar’s and it is true, he resembles his mother the most. But there is a lot of his father in him as well.

“You already know all about that, don’t you?” Rhaegar asks her.

“Rhaegar, I…”

“All is forgiven, Dany. By me and Aegon.”

She swallows heavily. “Do you think he knew?”

“I think he knew your heart was never yours to give because it belonged to someone else from the moment you were born.” He smiles at her, his eyes shining with pure, unadulterated love. “Come on now, I’d like to have you on my arm while I still can.”

Dany doesn’t need to be told twice. She quickly links her arm with her brother’s. And when she meets his eyes, she sees a little life has come back to them.

The realization fills her with immeasurable joy.

xxx

Dany feels much better at the final feast than she did during the first. Her stomach doesn’t bother her and she can enjoy some food and wine. She sits next to Jon, with her crown of roses on top of her head and his hand in hers under the table.

She can’t remember the last time she was this happy.

Rhaegar announces their upcoming royal wedding right before desert is served. Congratulations stream in from every direction, the sincerest ones being Robb Stark’s and Talisa’s. She thinks Jon’s northern family is happy for him too. She hopes she’ll get to know them better in the future.

“So… there’s something I thought I’d never see again,” Rhaenys says, pointing at Dany’s happy smile.

A blush creeps up her cheeks. She doesn’t mind it one bit.

“I’m so happy for you two. It’s about time!” She adds, taking Dany’s hands in hers. “It seems I was right, you always favored him.”

Dany rolls her eyes at her, her smile not faltering in the slightest.

“Thank you, Rhaenys,” Dany answers warmly. “For everything,” she quickly adds, giving her a meaningful look. She never would have survived what her father did to her without her family’s support. And even when she was far away on a boat, Rhaenys was always with her, distracting her from her dark thoughts with letters and tales of her adventures.

“Just take good care of my brother.”

“I will,” Dany promises and Rhaenys steps away to let other people congratulate her.

Many ladies tell her how pleased, how glad they are, but Dany doesn’t let her words fool them. They’re the same who spread awful, hurtful rumors about her. They smile while their eyes throw daggers at her and she can only imagine the terrible things they’ll say about her in the morrow. They’ll probably talk about she toyed with the king’s sons and how she easily switched from one brother to the other. They’ll say their marriage is one of convenience that she’s only marrying to strengthen his claim to the throne.

It doesn’t really matter to Dany. She knows the truth. She knows they love each other. They always have and always will.

xxx

She dances with him that night. It’s the first time they’re actually dancing together. He rarely attended feasts and celebrations when they were younger and if he did, he remained in the shadows, where he was always more comfortable. And ever since his return, they have been too busy fighting to dance.

Her first dance with the man who is to be her husband is slow and tender. The thought of Jon as her future husband makes her giddy and she feels like a girl of ten and five all over again. Jon used to kiss her in dark corners then. He does it in plain sight now, making her both laugh and blush.

He is also a surprisingly good dancer. She wonders where he’s learned this new trick. And as he twirls her around again and again, Dany prays the gods that her stomach will allow her to share more than this one dance with him. They’ve been together in many different ways, but there’s something about dancing with him, in plain sight at that, that makes it just a little more special.

They share more than one dance, but at some point, the spinning and twirling become too much anyway.

“Are you well?” Jon asks her when she suddenly tenses up against him, her throat tightening as a wave of nausea hits her.

“I just need some air is all.”

He frowns. “Do you want me to come with you?”

She shakes her head and squeezes his shoulder lightly. “It’s fine. I’ll be back soon.”

xxx

The cool air of the night does wonders to her. She inhales deeply, sighing in relief when the waves of nausea fall back a little.

“So… congratulations are in order?”

Dany’s blood freezes in her veins. Slowly, she turns around.

Viserys.

The look on his face is pure hatred.

“Don’t bother,” she tells him. “I know you won’t mean them.”

“No, you’re right.” He takes a step toward her. Feeling threatened, she takes a step back. “I bet he’s put a baby inside you. You let him fuck you, didn’t you?” She doesn’t reply, but her hands immediately come up to her stomach. It’s firm under her palm, firmer than it used to be. Viserys shakes his head in disgust. “Lords, woman, have you no respect for your own blood?”

“I’m not the one who murdered my kin.”

“That Dornish prince was no dragon.”

Dany was already afraid, but when Viserys doesn’t deny her accusation, she becomes terrified.

“Stop right here,” she tells him and she feels like an idiot, all alone in the dark with her dangerous brother. Why didn’t she let Jon come with her?

“I think not.”

There’s something in his hand, it catches a ray of moonlight. A flash of silver blinds her.

A blade.

Before she can move, she hears a feral growl. Something big and white jumps between her and Viserys.

Her brother screams in pain and Dany watches in stunned silence as Ghost almost tears off her brother’s arm. Until finally, she snaps out of her daze.

“Get back, Ghost, get back!”

He obeys her and as soon as he’s free from the wolf’s fangs, Viserys turns to his side, moaning in pain.

“Good boy,” Dany whispers, petting the wolf’s side. His white fur is stained with blood and she gets some on her hands. It barely registers with her.

She hears commotion and when she looks up, she sees a group of people running toward them, Jon in front. He gathers her in his arms the moment he reaches her.

“Are you alright?” He asks, checking her frantically for injuries.

“I’m fine, thanks to Ghost.”

“That monster almost ripped off my arm! He needs to be put down!” Viserys screams as a Knight of the Kingsguard kneels before him and tries to stop the bleeding.

“Don’t listen to him,” Dany says curtly, holding on to Jon for dear life. “He tried to kill me.”

“I did not!” He yells.

“So, you were going to hug me with that knife in your hand?”

Ser Jaime spots it and immediately takes it from him.

“He also confessed to killing Aegon.”

Rhaegar, who was among the party of men, glances up at her. His eyes are wide with shock and disbelief. “He what?”

“I’m sorry, brother.”

“Show me your proof!”

“Save your breath for your trial,” Jon spits. “Take him away and make sure he doesn’t bleed out. He’ll need to be alive for me to take off his head.”

xxx

Even though Dany insists that she is fine, Jon forces her to see a healer. And since that healer is Talisa, Dany indulges him.

“I’m fine,” she says for what feels like the umpteenth time. “Viserys didn’t come close enough to touch me.” She glances at Ghost who’s currently lying on her bed.

“You haven’t been fine for a long time,” Talisa argues. “Now, come and rest if you don’t want to lose your babe.”

Dany freezes.

“What did you just say?”

“You heard me!”

There’s a challenge in her eyes. Dany sighs.

“For how long have you known?”

“Longer than even you I think.”

Dany’s hands come up to her stomach. She cradles it gently.

“I think I was afraid before,” she whispers. “But I know it’s true. I’m with child.”

The moment the words pass her lips, she feels like a weight has been lifted from her shoulders. It’s the first time that she’s actually said the words out loud, the first time she’s acknowledged her condition.

She smiles because for the first time in her life all the things she’s ever wanted are within reach. Marrying Jon, carrying his child… they’re not just dreams anymore. They’re her reality.

“You knew all along, didn’t you?” She says, kneeling down to pet Ghost. The wolf just rubs his big furry head against her belly. Dany smiles, comforted by the thought that, although her child has yet to open their eyes on the world, they’re already much loved and well-protected.

“Daenerys, rest!” Talisa reminds her, her tone fearsome.

Dany complies and gets in bed. It’s not easy with a huge direwolf occupying half of the space but she manages it.

“I’ll see you in the morrow,” Talisa tells her. Just then, the door to her rooms opens and Jon walks in. “She needs rest, so with you all due respect, keep your hands to yourself, Your Grace.”

“As my lady commands,” Jon replies as she exits.

“Don’t listen to her, I’m fine.”

He shakes his head. “Always so stubborn, Dany.”

He looks exhausted, she notices. There are dark circles under his eyes and the light in his eyes from before is gone. She gets Ghost down the bed and makes room for him beside her. He doesn’t wait for a more explicit invitation and just joins her, holding her close to his chest. Then, she waits for him to speak.

“I told father and Rhaenys everything we knew. She wasn’t surprised, but my father…” his voice trails down and Dany doesn’t need him to tell her to know that Viserys’ betrayal broke her brother’s heart all over again.

“Robb was there,” Jon goes on. “We went and searched Viserys’ rooms together.”

“And? Did you find anything?”

He hums his approval and when he doesn’t tell her what exactly, she doesn’t press him for answers. There will be a trial and everything will be revealed then.

This day has been the happiest of her life, for many reasons, and she doesn’t want to taint it with more talk of death and conspiracy.

“Do you know how long your family will stay in King’s Landing?” She asks, shifting her position so that she can look at him.

“No, but I think my uncle wants to visit Storm’s End and his friend Robert Baratheon before they head back to Winterfell. Why?”

“Well, I was thinking it would be nice if they attended the wedding.”

“It hurts me to say this, but I’m the Crown Prince now and you’re a princess… it will be moons before we are wed.” He sighs. “If it were up to me, I’d just grab the first septon and ask him to marry us right here and there.”

Dany drops a brief kiss on his lips. “You really know how to court a lady, how to make her feel loved and wanted, don’t you?” She teases him.

“I’m no bloody poet,” he defends himself.

“Well, be that as it may, we might have to grab the first septon, if it gets us married as soon as possible.”

She stares at him intently. She watches as the expression on his face changes from confused, to more confused, to hopeful as he processes what she’s just told him.

“No!” He breathes out.

She nods. “I’m with child,” she tells him excitedly.

His reaction is pure magic. In a second, he goes from hopeful to downright happy. A smile like she’s never seen illuminates his face. The worry fades from his eyes and is replaced with pure unadulterated joy. Light has finally returned to them and she couldn’t be gladder.

“Dany, this—” he’s at a loss for words. She’s never seen him speechless before. “How?”

She gives him a look. “Really?”

“No, but how can you know? It’s too soon, we were only together this afternoon...”

She bursts out laughing, amused by the confused look on his pretty face.

“What’s so funny?”

“I know it was weeks ago, but I seem to remember you doing very wicked things to me in the woods.”

He starts laughing too. “I guess that’s why they warn girls from them.” He leans down and kisses her lips. “I can’t believe we made a child right after I accused you of having a bastard.”

The memory of this argument is still painful, but she pretends it isn’t. “Reminds me of that time you asked me to marry you right after you accused me of conspiring against you.”

He closes his eyes and lets out a long sigh. He rests his forehead against hers. “I’m sorry, Dany. I can be a real idiot sometimes.”

“It’s alright. I’m an idiot too sometimes.”

He smiles then asks her again, his voice really soft. “Are you really?”

She grabs his hands and places it on her belly, over their growing child.

“I am,” she says again.

And then, Jon Targaryen, formerly known as Jon Snow, the Knight of the Winter Rose, the Crown Prince, her best friend, her love, her everything, starts weeping.

xxx

She dreams of fire again that night.

But this time, it’s not killing her. It’s burning everything down around her, but it’s not hurting her.

Then, from the ashes, lemon trees grow, their roots deeply planted in the ground. Birds chirp happily on their branches. The sun is up and hot. Blue roses fill the air with sweetness.

Far in the distance, she hears children laughing. It’s a beautiful dream.

Her dream of spring.

xxx

Jon can’t sleep that night. The day has been such a beautiful one, it feels too good to be true. He’s afraid he’ll lose everything if he closes his eyes even for one second. Staying awake in this living dream seems far more reasonable.

Dany doesn’t seem nearly as worried as he is. She quickly falls asleep in his arms and he spends most of the night looking at her in wonder. She looks so peaceful, so young, when she sleeps, it tugs at his heart. How anyone could ever want to hurt her is beyond him.

Thoughts of her brother and father fill his head and he feels the urge to hit something. He remembers hearing of his grandsire’s passing, but never in a million years could he have imagined that Dany, his Dany, burnt with him that fateful night. He could have lost her too, for good and the thought terrifies him. He holds her a little closer and wishes that he could bring her father back to life only to have the pleasure of killing him all over again. He can’t unfortunately, and he’ll have to be content with taking Viserys’ head after his trial. One swing of his sword and both his brother’s death and the woman he loves will be avenged.

Dany stirs in her sleep and utters some nonsense he doesn’t quite understand. His grip is too tight around her so he loosens it a little. His eyes fall on her stomach and he wonders how he didn’t notice something different in her before. The changes aren’t too obvious, but they’re here. Her stomach is definitely curved and her skin is firmer under his touch.

Their child is growing inside her and the thought makes his head spin.

A child that is half-him and half-her. Their child.

The kingdom will want a boy, a heir to the throne, he reckons.

He prays for a girl with his eyes and Daenerys’ silver hair. He prays for a girl as wild as her father and as brave as her mother.

A little Lyanna.

The thought makes him smile.

xxx

When the sun starts painting the sky in pink and gold, Jon knows it’s time for him to leave Dany’s rooms. He’s careful as he disentangles himself from her. He doesn’t want to wake her up.

He slips out of her rooms and heads for his own. He encounters none other than Ser Jaime Lannister on the way. Jon feels a little shameful when his eyes meet the knight’s green ones.

“Ser Jaime,” he greets him, determined to make amends.

“Your Grace,” the knight replies. “I hear congratulations are in order.”

He nods slowly.

“She told you the truth, didn’t she?”

Again, Jon nods. “You saved her life,” he says.

The look in Ser Jaime’s eyes grows distant, as if he’s remembering that terrible night. “There was no other choice to make,” he eventually tells him.

“Thank you, for everything that you’ve done for her. I didn’t see it before, blinded as I was by jealousy and bitterness, but I see now that you’ve been a good friend to her. A loyal one too.”

He extends a hand and it takes Ser Jaime a minute, but he eventually takes it.

“Also, I’m sorry I broke your nose.”

“Let’s not talk about this anymore. Just promise me that you’ll be good to her and I’ll consider us even.”

Jon studies him for a minute. “You love her, don’t you?”

“As much as a knight can love a lady, Your Grace.”

And with these mysterious words, he leaves. Jon watches him and hopes that the knight realizes he’ll be in his debt forever.

xxx

“How’s your lady love?” Robb asks him.

They’re breaking their fast in his rooms. It’s only the two of them for it is still early in the morning and the Red Keep is tired from the night’s feast.

“She’s fine,” Jon says.

Robb smiles, not looking surprised in the slightest. “Of course she is. She doesn’t strike me as the kind of lady who’d let something as insignificant as an assassination attempt scare her.”

“You said she was delicate,” Jon points out. “And you’ve seen her cry.”

“Aye, we all do when we are hurt. Crying isn’t a sign of weakness, it’s a sign of humanity. Beware of those who don’t cry, cousin.”

Jon nods. That sounds like a sound piece of advice.

“Dany’s with child,” Jon confesses.

This time Robb looks surprised. “So you know where to put it…” He teases him. Jon just rolls his eyes at him. “Gods, Jon, this is wonderful news! I’m happy for you.”

He claps his back cheerfully.

“Aye, I can scarcely believe everything that’s happened since yesterday.”

They sit back down and Jon proceeds to tell him why Dany sent him away all these years ago. Robb listens carefully. When Jon tells him of Viserys’ role, he cannot contain his anger.

“Damn, that rat needs to die already!”

“He will,” Jon assures him. His shoulders fall a little when he thinks of his brother, gone before his time.

Robb nods and after having seemingly sensed the dark turn in his cousin’s thoughts, he changes the subject.

“So, the wedding will need to take place sooner rather than later. That won’t be suspicious at all,” he adds, a teasing smile on his lips.

“It doesn’t matter. We’ve waited long enough.” Jon marks a pause, not knowing how to ask what he needs to. “Will you go back to Winterfell with your family?”

The look in his blue eyes grow distant. “I think I will. My place is there.”

“Do you remember what you told me when I thought about taking the black? You said there would always be a place for me beside you. I’ve lost a brother, aye, but I was lucky to find another in you. There will always be a place for you beside me.”

Jon thinks he sees tears in his cousin’s eyes. “I was raised to be lord of Winterfell. I don’t know much about advising a future king.”

“And I was raised as a bastard,” Jon counters. “Come on, brother, stay. I’d hate for you to leave.”

Robb smiles. “Well, if you’d hate it…”

Jon smiles too. “Besides, King’s Landing has something Winterfell doesn’t.”

“Pure air?”

Jon laughs. “That too. But I was thinking of a certain Essosi lady, her name is Talisa…”

A blush creeps up Robb’s cheeks and that is when Jon knows he’s made his decision.

xxx

The sun is already high in the sky when Jon finally makes his way to the Red Keep’s cells, where they are holding Viserys.

His uncle has lost most of his splendor. He, who was always so arrogant, so proud, is only the shadow of himself now. His silver hair is greasy and dirty, as is his face. And underneath, the dirt and blood, he’s pale as death, his injured arm bent on his chest as he lies on the cold wet stones of his prison.

Jon tries to compare this wreck of a man to the cocky prince who always insulted him when they were younger. There’s not much of him left now.

“I know you’re not sleeping, Viserys, so stop pretending and look at me,” he tells him, raking his sword against the wall.

Slowly, his father’s brother opens one glassy eye, then the other.

“Will you not let me die in peace?” He croaks.

“You will not die,” Jon tells him fiercely. “At least not now.”

“Why not? It would make things easier, wouldn’t it?”

“Easier for you, perhaps.”

“There’s nothing easy about this,” Viserys spits.

“If I let you die in this cell, justice will not be served.”

“Oh please Jon… you and I both know it’s your vengeful purpose that you hide behind the notion of justice.”

Jon takes a deep breath, refusing to take the bait. “You will have a fair trial. Though I must tell you, we find the letters you wrote. We know you were preparing a coup. And if your accomplices wish to keep their heads where they are, they better turn on you.” He pauses. “You’re done.”

“And that makes you really happy, doesn’t it?”

“I’ve killed before and I took no pleasure in the death of my enemies.” He closes his eyes and sees Dany’s scars, Aegon’s pale cold face. “But I must admit, your death will be quite satisfying after what you did to my brother and to Dany.”

“I did nothing to her!”

This time, Jon takes the bait. He lunges forward. “Nothing? You were the one who told your father about us. If it weren’t for you, he never would have hurt her.”

“And if it weren’t for you, she never would have lost her way. You made her betray her blood. I should have killed you in your crib, you wicked bastard!”

Jon sees red. He lifts him by the throat and slams him against the wall. “You fucker, how dare you?”

“The truth hurts, doesn’t it? What happened to Daenerys was entirely your fault. Had you not coveted what wasn’t meant for you…”

Jon tightens his grip around his throat, stopping him from speaking further. “You’re one to talk! Don’t believe that I’m not aware of what your plans were for her. All her life you’ve been watching her, following her around like a poisonous shadow.”

He releases him. Viserys takes a gulp of air as he slides down the wall.

“You will be dead before the next moon is up in the sky and you will never know what it is to be loved by her. You will die knowing that you and your father’s worst nightmares have all come true, that she is my wife and that she carries my child. You will die knowing that the Targaryen dynasty will continue through us, a bastard from the North and a princess from the South.”

Viserys coughs some blood. “Aye, and you will live the rest of your life in my debt. Mark my words, bastard. You will be king only because I killed your brother. I hope you think of him every time you go to sleep next to your lady wife, every time you hold your child in your arms… I hope you remember you only have this life because you took it from your brother, a brother you betrayed times and times...”

Jon knocks him out before he can finish his sentence. He then storms out of his cell.

“Fetch a maester,” he grunts at the guards.

xxx

He ends up in their clearing. It doesn’t surprise him, it’s where he always goes when he needs to get away from things, when he needs to think.

It’s another beautiful day and the place is more enchanting than ever, with the golden light of the sun filtering through the thick green leaves of the trees and the clear sound of the water running by. But not even the beauty of this sacred place is enough to soothe him.

Jon doesn’t know what he expected from his conversation with Viserys, but he knows the worst happened. He’s let him get to him. He pulls at his hair and tries to forget his hurtful words.

He fails.

It’s not long before Dany finds him.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” she tells him. He jumps on his feet to help her down her horse. “I should have known to come here first.”

He keeps holding her waist even after she’s safely on the ground. He looks at her, her pink cheeks, red lips and lilac eyes… she could have been long dead, all because of him.

“What is it?” She asks him in concern.

He shakes his head, forces the dark thoughts from his mind. He can’t let Viserys win. He won’t.

“It’s nothing,” he assures.

“Tell me anyway.”

Her stubbornness makes him smile. “It’s just something Viserys said…”

“You’ve talked to him?”

She sounds genuinely surprised. “Aye. And I agree it might be counted as another of my idiotic decisions.”

This time, it’s her turn to smile. But she’s not amused, she seems… compassionate. As if she already has an idea what poisonous words her brother might have said.

“What did he tell you?”

Jon sighs, his shoulders falling a little. He’s reluctant to tell her the truth. He doesn’t want to burden her with such terrible considerations. Besides, she already has her own guilt to handle. He doesn’t want to add to her worries.

She feels his hesitation. He can tell she doesn’t like it. “If we are to be husband and wife,” she says, threading her fingers with his, “then, there can be no secrets between us.”

“He said it was my fault what happened to you.”

“It wasn’t,” she quickly assures him.

“Maybe if I hadn’t…” she interrupts him by covering his mouth with her hand.

“Do you remember our first kiss?”

He nods.

“Do you remember the stern talking-to you gave me afterwards?”

He nods again.

“You did everything you could to push me away. I was just too stubborn to listen.”

He takes her hand away. “And I couldn’t resist you,” he confesses, pushing her hair behind her ear.

She smiles. “No, you couldn’t. Please don’t blame yourself for what happened, Jon. It wasn’t your fault.”

“I won’t if you don’t either.” He’s got her there, he knows.

“Fair enough.” She waits a second before asking. “What else did my brother say?”

“He mentioned Aegon.”

A flash of anger crosses her eyes. “He should keep his name out of his mouth.”

“Viserys basically said I ought to thank him, because without him I wouldn’t have the life I have.”

Dany pales at his words.

“What is it?”

“The thought has entered my mind. But we don’t owe him shit, Jon.”

He arches an eyebrow at her use of such a word.

“I know that Dany.”

“Then, what’s bothering you?”

“It’s unfair that I get to have everything I’ve ever wanted when Aegon is dust in the Sept of Baelor.”

The look in her eyes grows distant. “I know, I feel the same way. What I’m going to tell you might not comfort you, but… that’s just the way it is. Life is unfair. And if we keep looking back at the past and those who’ve left us, we’ll never enjoy what little happiness it has to offer.”

Her word makes sense but as she predicted, they don’t comfort him. She sees it immediately. She cups his cheeks and forces him to look at her.

“It’s not your fault, Jon. Viserys killed your brother, not you, so don’t blame yourself for his crimes. It’s true, Aegon didn’t deserve to die. He deserved better, a life full of love and children. But it doesn’t mean we don’t deserve this, it doesn’t mean we don’t deserve to enjoy the lives that are now ours.”

He doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve her, her loyalty, her love. All he knows is that he was born the luckiest bastard.

“I love you,” he tells her.

“And I you,” she replies softly.

He kisses her briefly on the lips. Then they settle on the grass, Ghost a silent comforting presence between them. Jon listens as Dany tells him about her day. She chases away his demons with the sound of her voice and the comfort of her hand in his. That is, until she swats his shoulder.

“You told Robb about our babe!”

“Of course I did,” he says, rubbing his shoulder where she hit him. “But how do you know I told him?”

“Because he congratulated me when I saw him earlier. And since he’s already congratulated me about our betrothal, I assumed he knew.”

He frowns. “Did you not want me to tell him? Are you upset?”

She shakes her head. “I thought we’d tell our family together after the wedding is all.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” she says, one of her hands coming up to cover her stomach. He does the same and together, they hold their unborn babe. His heart swells with love and pride at the sight. He beams at her.

“What is it?” She asks.

“What do you think it’s going to be?”

“We won’t know for many moons,” she reminds him.

“Aye, but what do you think?”

She is silent for a while. “I think it’s a girl,” she confesses him, a wistful look in her eyes.

His smile widens impossibly. “I think so too. Maybe we could name her Lyanna, after my lady mother.”

“And what about my lady mother?”

He kisses her lips. “I guess we’ll have to have another daughter.”

Dany laughs. “Let’s have this one first.”

“Aye, let’s have this one first.”

He kisses her belly then, finally feeling at peace.

xxx

Jon Targaryen was born a Snow, a bastard.

The son of Rhaegar Targaryen, the Crown Prince and his lover, the she-wolf Lyanna Stark.

He was never meant for anything. And were it not for the gods, he would have died only to be forgotten by the world and history. That never stopped him from dreaming though, fool that he was. And growing up, his head was always filled with dreams.

Dreams of glory and love, of silver hair and happy children. Because, much like his lady mother, Jon is a wolf in love with a dragon.

Her name is Daenerys Targaryen. He’s always loved her and always will.

She is the bravest, most compassionate, most beautiful woman he’s ever met and for some reasons he doesn’t always quite understand, she loves him too. She always has and always will.

She loves him enough to marry him one summer day. She wears a beautiful white-silver dress that brings out the extraordinary color of her eyes. It also cleverly hides the swell of her stomach, her stomach that is full of dreams and promises.

Jon has been waiting for this day his entire life.

And that is why, when the time comes, he doesn’t hesitate and says.

“I’m hers and she is mine.”

They always have and always will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you loved the story! 
> 
> I have a tumblr, so if you want to come and chat about Jonerys, I'm here! I will also post the moodboard for the story there. Go check it out if you're interested!  
https://charlie-leau.tumblr.com/

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you loved the story!
> 
> I have a tumblr, so if you want to come and chat about Jonerys, I'm here! I will also post the moodboard for the story there. Go check it out if you're interested!  
https://charlie-leau.tumblr.com/


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